


California Assassination

by guardianangela



Series: Kamukoma Time [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Assassination Plot(s), Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, Enoshima Junko Being An Asshole, Face-Fucking, First Dates, Hotels, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Masochism, Murder, Obsessive Behavior, Pining, Remnants of Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Resolved Sexual Tension, Road Trips, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, Sloppy Makeouts, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trans Male Character, Trapped In Elevator, exploring izurus character, junkomaeda (unrequited), trans Nagito Komaeda, w/ junko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-09-23 17:58:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20344318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardianangela/pseuds/guardianangela
Summary: Junko explains that a billionaire from America is funding a newly forming Future Foundation. She springs a needlessly complicated assassination plot to spend some quality time with her best friends.Nagito acts on his worst impulses.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Story has better context if you've read the first entry of the series.)
> 
> Chapter Summary:
> 
> Junko explains that a billionaire from America is funding the newly formed Future Foundation. They fly to California and score a very nice hotel room. Nagito borderlines on obsession.
> 
> (I love reading comments on my work, so don't be shy!)

Nagito pulled the jacket over his dress shirt, pulling the button through at the center. It felt too tight at the elbows. Had he given Junko the wrong size…?

He looks through the bin of ties that she had handed to him earlier. She seemed excited to see him all fancied up. He hadn’t worn a suit since the last funeral he attended. That would have been years ago.

He digs out a rather ugly tie, bright orange plaid. That was the final straw for him, he tossed the bin aside and decided to subtract it from his outfit. He hated wearing ties, anyway. He taps his shoes on the floor, trying to remember if he’d forgotten anything.

Nagito walks in front of the vanity to get a look at himself. It feels like it's been ages since he just looked in a mirror.

His skin has gotten paler since then. He feels the smooth underline of his eyes, noting how dark they look. A good night's sleep is a rare luxury.

He twists his body to look at the back of the outfit. It was a black suit, sharp looking and well fitting- if a bit too tight. The dress pants were high waisted and hugged his legs. It was exactly the sort of suit that Junko would pick out for him to wear. 

He sighs, lamenting that she’d never let him attach a chain to his belt. ‘A fashion sin!’ she’d say, as if adding a little personal flair to his formal wear is more damnable than mass murder. 

He sits down at the vanity. On the desk was an array of makeup, none of which Nagito recognized. He searched for some kind of black vial. 

Just because it was a formal event doesn’t mean he’d abandon his routine. 

After knocking around various lip glosses and eyeshadow cases, he found some liquid eyeliner.

It was very expensive, he could tell that much. Eyeliner is eyeliner, right?

He leans forward and pulls the wand across his eyelid in one graceful stroke. He briefly remembers when Junko saw him get ready for the first time. She was furious he could apply eyeliner faster than her.

The door to the dressing room flung open, it would have made him flinch if he hadn’t heard Mukuro's steps moments previously. Direct and punctual.

“Are you ready?”

She wasn’t wearing a formal outfit. Just her normal button up and skirt. May have put some heels on, but it’s not like he paid attention to her shoes beforehand.

He nodded, setting down the eyeliner. His mouth curved up into a smile. He looks at himself in the mirror once again, eyes drawn to the curve of his mouth.

A doll, Izuru had said.

“Junko has the jet ready, we’re waiting on you.”

He followed her out of the room into the hallway. Couldn't keep her waiting.

-

The plane ride wasn’t awful. 

It was a private jet, and a very nice one at that. Nothing that Nagito was a stranger to- he owned a private jet himself. A birthday present from when he turned sixteen. 

Mukuro was piloting, leaving the three of them in the back. Junko sat on a sleek couch, Nagito across from her. Mikan was cuddling up next to her, it reminds him of a lap dog. 

He observes the marks on Mikan's arms. Thin fingers that had wrapped around her too tightly, long red nails that stab too roughly. The bruises are familiar. He has them too.

Junko was wearing a deep red dress that clung tight to her body. It was strapless, skin tight- it pushed up her breasts in a way that repulsed him.

“You look like a sausage, miss Junko.” Nagito smirked and choked down a chuckle.

“If you don’t take that back-”

The door leading to the cockpit opened.

“Kamukura! How nice of you to join us.” Nagito turned to greet him.

Izuru glanced at the boy in acknowledgment. 

Junko waved excitedly at him, disrupting Mikans nap. She layed back down on Junko’s lap. The way she dressed reminded him of a secretary. She wore a button up shortsleeve, dark grey pencil skirt, and pantyhose. He could see her black bra through her shirt.

“Kamukura! Tired of talking to piggy up in the cockpit?” Junko laughed like a witch, “Since you’re here-”

She pulled out a file folder and slapped it onto the table between them. Some of the papers slided out, Nagito picked up a picture of a middle aged man. He had a fat face, european features, and was nearly balding. He had smile lines on his cheeks. Izuru leaned to flip through the papers.

“THIS bad boy is Jax Bortz. He owns a prissy little club in California,” Junko said, sliding papers around, “He’s a billionaire, and he’s funneling money directly into Future Foundation’s fat gob!”

“Future Foundation?” Izuru asked.

“This new organization that’s sprung up to 'combat despair'," She mocked, “They have a lot of backers and Mr. Borts just so happens to be the biggest one at the moment.”

Izuru’s eyes twitched when he read something on the paper.

“_I’m_ securing a premium hotel room?”

Junko waved him off, “Spoilers! I’m not there yet!”

She groaned and turned back to Nagito, “ANYway, so, we get to Bort's club- I’ve already gotten Mikan a job as a waitress- Mikan and Mukuro are going to be at the club ALL night while we,” She gestures to Nagito and Izuru, “Get a hotel room down the street. Izuru will get us a premium room on the very top floor.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Izuru’s voice spiked with annoyance.

“You have a butt ton of talents! Use them!” 

Izuru scoffed, sitting down next to Nagito. He crossed a leg over the other, Nagito shifted away from him.

“ANYWAY!" She started again, "Mikan will find information about Bort, we find him, we kill him, Future Foundation loses their sponsor," she counts the steps on her fingers, "and WE get a mother fuckin nightcluuub!” She throws the papers up into the air. 

Izuru catches each one before it lands on the ground.

“How are we going to kill him?” Nagito asked.

“We're improvising!” 

“Why do we need a hotel room?” Izuru shuffled the papers back in order. 

Nagito watched his fingers methodically flip through the papers. They were nimble and looked soft- no calluses or signs of wear.

“Because I want one, damn it! This hotel is super super nice!” She whines, leaning forward to get her point across, “It has a fuckin’ gourmet buffet and HUGE indoor pool!”

Izuru put a hand up to get her to stop yelling, begrudgingly agreeing to the plan.

Junko cheered to herself. Mikan nodded her head in acknowledgment. He didn't think she was listening.

"Is Tsumiki going to be a waitress for long?" Nagito asked, wondering how long this operation would take, "and why not just show up to his house?"

"He's slippery because he knows he's a target. I can't find him easy and it'd be more fun to track him down with a spy stakeout! I want to do a TON of fun stuff while we're waiting!" She smiles widely, clearly excited. 

He thinks she's cute in a painfully annoying way.

"It's going to be, the BOMB, Nagito." Junko's very passionate about this. Nagitos afraid of a catch. There might be an underlying motive, and it makes his stomach knot up with anxiety. He chases off the thought before Junko can notice something is wrong.

Nagito steals a sideways look at Izuru. If he was there, then Junko wouldn't do anything awful to him … would she?

Maybe it lasted a little too long, because Izuru shoots one back at him. Nagito quickly looks away, turning toward the window instead.

He remembers the first time he ever rode on a plane.

-

They landed with little to no trouble. In all honesty, Nagito was a little nervous about the plane ride. Flying has never gone particularly well for him in the past.

Driving through the roads was a hassle. The evening sun frequently got in Junko's eyes, causing her to curse and drive semi-erratically. Izuru navigated the road signs, being able to read the language. They exchanged their Yen for American dollars, which was needlessly tedious.

They parked Junko’s red sports car in a lot near the hotel. He'd seen the club Junko mentioned on the way there.

It was lit up electric blue and was fairly tall. It looked almost like a business building if not for the huge decorative sign that took up almost the entire front.

The hotel they arrived at indeed looked very expensive. It was _huge_, too.

Mukuro opened the trunk to pull out their luggage, Nagito started to go to help her carry everything buy Junko yanked Nagito's arm along toward the hotel. 

She suddenly stopped and turned around, digging into her purse.

“What’s wrong, miss?” He asked, leaning to look in her bag.

“Izuru,” she pulled out a few hair ties, “Put your hair up. Makes you look handsome for the receptionist.”

Izuru sighed deeply, taking a tie from her.

His hair cascaded around his shoulders, falling into his face. He followed Izurus hands as he tied his hair up. It was like silk- practically perfect in every single way. He pulled at the base to tighten it and keep it in place. The lock of hair that was always in his face was pulled back, forming a loose side swept bang. 

Izuru didn't look quite so foreign anymore, he gave off the impression of a wealthy businessman or an aristocrat.

As Izuru walked past him, Nagito reached his hand out to lightly touch his hair. His fingers cut straight through it, like water.

Junko grabbed his arm once again and pulled him through the front doors.

Izuru walked up to the reception desk. The receptionist was a young girl with a brown bob. An average girl, but Nagito couldn’t deny that she was pretty. Nagito leaned on the counter to Izurus left, Junko rested on his right.

The receptionist smiled, although forcefully. 

She issued a greeting, and Izuru clears his throat and smiles.

_… Smiles?_

Izurus normally intense eyes softened into a happy glow. He smiled brightly at the receptionist. He was absolutely radiant, comforting, approachable.

_The Ultimate Actor._

It was jarring to say the least.

Izuru spoke with her in English, he had a perfect dialect as if he'd spoken the language all his life.

The girl at the desk seemed somewhat off put by the color of his eyes, but it's easy to just assume they're contacts. 

He seemed to flirt with her, based on her reaction. She laughed shyly and covered her mouth with a paper. He just chuckled and kept talking sweetly.

She handed him a room key for 1/3rd of the price.

Izuru excused himself from the counter, saying 'thank you'.

Nagito ogled at Izurus friendly aura. He never imagined Izuru could smile so genuinely, even if it was just acting. It was endearing, almost.

When he turned away from the counter, Izurus face dropped back down to normal. The switch was automatic and jarring.

Nagito grabbed a luggage cart and helped Mukuro pile on the suitcases and bags. He mouths ‘sorry’ to her, apologizing for not helping her earlier. A small smile appears on her face, she nods in appreciation. 

Junko, Mikan, and Izuru take the elevator ride up first. Mukuro and Nagito take the second lift. It was a tight squeeze with the luggage cart, but they made it work. He watched Mukuro wipe her forehead with the back of her hand. She must have been exhausted from so much work. At least, she should be. Her stamina might be greater than most humans. He wasn’t sure.

The hotel room was on one of the top floors, two large windows took up the entire wall overlooking the city. Junko found the remote to dim the window tint and played with it methodically. She turned it all different colors and commented her opinion on each.

The bed was king sized with a very nice fluffy blanket and silk pillows. Felt like silk, anyway. There was a large couch with a sleek coffee table planted in front of it. It was angled toward the window.

It was a conjoined room, the room connected was basically the exact same as the other. 

Nagito picked up two large bags and set them down next to the couches. Mukuro rolled in two suitcases, holding a bag with her teeth. He pulled the bag from her mouth. She gave him a small nod before returning back to the carrier in the hallway. 

“Miss Ikusaba?” She looked behind her shoulder at him, “Do you need a break? I would hate to see you collapse.”

She shook her head no, walking past him carrying two bags in her arms. Her hair was starting to stick to her forehead. There was only one bag left, and Nagito struggled to pull it up. What on earth could make it this heavy?

He drags it into the room. Junko spots what bag he’s carrying, “Hey! That’s one of mine. I’m going to be keeping it in my room.”

“You’re keeping that room all to yourself?” He asked incredulously, letting go of the bag while handing it to her. She almost dropped to the floor at the sudden weight.

“No, you stupid mutt,” She wheezed out in exertion. “You’re sleeping with me.”

He paused for a moment in disbelief.

"I don't really want to sleep in a bed, I'm just fine sleeping on the floor! I'd hate to waste bed space," He followed her into the other room, she set the bag on the coffee table. Izuru was sitting cross-legged on the couch. 

"Besides, where would Kamukura sleep?"

Junko laughed harshly, throwing her head back, "With that receptionist, most likely!"

Izuru rolled his eyes hard, clearly annoyed.

Junko kept poking at him.

"I saw the way you were lookin' at her! You DTF?" 

"It was to get you your room key. Nothing more." His annoyance melted into a deadpan tone as he looked out the window.

"Suuure. Say, got any talents that would help with that kind of thing? I'd let you test them out on me!" Nagito could tell she wasn't all the way serious, but it still angered him. He didn't like what she was implying. 

"I'm not interested." Izuru kept scanning the cityscape. It was almost dark now, the lights lit up the horizon and the sunset blazed behind it.

Junko snorted, going back to the other room.

Izuru had probably never been kissed before. Or anything further, for that matter. Nagito shot the thought out of his mind before it got out of hand.

His suit jacket is starting to _really_ pinch at his elbows. He takes it off and puts it in one of Junko's bags.

He sat down on the couch next to Izuru, following his gaze to the skyline.

"Do you think it's pretty?" He asked.

Izuru took a moment to respond, "Yes."

He can appreciate aesthetic value, that's something he didn't realize yet.

"Lucky we got a higher floor, the lower ones don't get a view above the city."

He didn't respond. 

Junko peeped her head in the door, seemingly in the process of changing.

"Hey, Nagito," he turned to look at her, "wanna come with me to the pool? Me and Mikan are going down, it's a suuuper nice pool."

He furrowed his eyebrows at her, slightly offended, "You _know_ that I can't."

_"You know that I can't."_ She shook her head in a mocking manner, closing the door.

Nagito sighed deeply. She probably did that just to poke fun at him. His jacket was starting to annoy him greatly. He pulled it off and laid it on the table.

"Why can't you?"

He turns to the boy, unsure if he was talking to him.

"Hm?"

"Why can't you go swimming?"

Nagito's shocked, he assumed Izuru knew everything.

"I can't swim in a binder, is all." He tries to act casual about it. He takes a sense of pride that he could pass so well that even Izuru didn't know.

Izuru pauses and looks at him. 

"I… you know, a binder…?" Nagito gestured in the air vaguely.

The other boy's eyebrow twitched. Nagito forgets that he can't possibly know _everything._ He's only been living for a short time.

Nagito laughs a little awkwardly, "I'm a trans man."

Izuru understands immediately, nodding at him and turning to face the window again.

It's a nice change from what usually happens when he tells someone that. No invasive questions, no weird looks, he accepted him and moved on.

A warm feeling spread through his chest. He feels he hardly deserves Izurus acceptance. He wanted to return the favor. 

Nagito heard the front door closing in the other room. The girls had left.

"Are you hungry, Kamukura?" 

"Not especially."

That's not a no. He spots his opportunity to spend some time with him. He'd been wanting to ever since New Years.

"There's a buffet downstairs, it's dinner time right about now. Hopefully they'll have some good things to eat," he pulls his wallet out of his pocket, "but I totally understand if you don't want to have a meal with me. Feel free to decline, after all I'm-"

"Shut up." Izuru said, standing up from his seat and walking toward the door.

Nagito walked in toe behind him, "I'll pay!"

A silly thing to say, considering Izuru couldn't care less about money and who's spending it. 

-

The eating area was very well furnished, almost fine dining. Izuru savored the smells in the air before they became dull.

The idea of eating a meal with Izuru made Nagito's spine go cold. It was too similar to a date for it to be comfortable. Nonetheless, Nagito put on his big boy pants and headed towards the buffet.

"What do you want to eat?" Nagito asked, he put a bread roll onto his plate.

"I don't really care."

Nagito fought the urge to sigh, his smile only faltering for a split second. This boy can be so frustrating.

"What foods are you tired of eating?" 

Izuru paused for a few seconds, genuinely thinking. "Rice."

Nagito laughed, nodding in agreement.

"Do you have a price limit?" 

"Eat as much as you want, I'll pay for all of it." Nagito assured him. 

He didn't really see much that made his mouth water, he got a few chicken drumsticks and broccoli. Izuru was still getting food when he sat down. 

Nagito figured it would be impolite to start without him. He fiddled with his fork. He could almost fool himself that this was normal. Eating with a friend, staying in a nice hotel. Until he inevitably remembers why he's here. Who he's here _for._

The memory creeps up on him like nails on his spine.

He zones out staring at the dark table, until a plate of food is slid across his path.

Izuru has a large bowl of noodles, it looks like ramen, but it's scarlet tinted and smells so spicy that it makes Nagito's eyes water.

"Ah," he blinks away tears, "What did you get?"

"I didn't recognize this recipe." Izuru grabs a fork and twirls it in the bowl.

Nagito waved the fumes away, "That's probably because it's rather American, isn't it?"

Izuru ate a mouthful. When he swallowed, his eyes twitched and he grimaced. He blinked repeatedly, tears falling down his face.

"... Do you like it?" Nagito genuinely couldn't tell.

"It's good," he said after another bite, "It hurts my mouth."

These noodles were the only thing he'd seen Izuru get even a little bit excited about. 

"You're into that kind of thing?" Nagito asks, "Pain foods, I mean."

The other boy nodded.

"Have you ever had anything sour?"

“Lemons.”

“Ah.” Nagito paused while eating his food, “Have you ever had Warheads before?”

Izuru shook his head no, so Nagito continued, “It’s a super sour candy. Children put handfuls into their mouths to see how much they can take.”

Nagito was curious about how spicy it really was, but opted to leave that curiosity behind. Izuru was much more composed than he, and even he had tears streaming down his cheeks from the spice.

Izuru ate smaller bites now, seemingly losing interest in the sensation.

Nagito had seen this ritual before. Izuru finds something new and loses interest when the sensation becomes familiar. He wondered if there was something that wouldn’t get old for him. He can’t really think of anything that he could do forever and never get tired of it.

Well, actually, he could.

I mean, Izurus never even been **_kissed_** before.

Nagito tried to shut his thought process down. Those thoughts from earlier are coming back to haunt him, it seems.

“Is there anything you really want to do?” Nagito asked.

“Not especially.”

“Well, what have you done before?”

“You want me to list it to you?”

“Ah…No,” Even though Nagito would _gladly_ listen to Izuru for hours on end, he’d hate to waste his time. He _already_ feels like he’s wasting his time. He supposes it’s fine because Izuru agreed to be here, wants to be here. Nagito feels overjoyed at that- but he has to remind himself it’s not personal, Izuru just doesn’t have anything better to do, “Just… what’s your favorite thing you’ve experienced so far?”

Izuru pauses to think. Seconds pass, and Nagito thinks he’s not going to answer his question. It was a stupid question to ask anyway, Izuru doesn’t _have_ favorites.

“The massacre in Shibuya.” Izuru says- Nagito almost didn’t hear him, it was so quiet.

Nagito remembers seeing Izuru rip through people like they were nothing. A pang shoots down his chest into his stomach. He crosses one leg over the other.

Izuru stares at him.

Nagito averts his eyes, covering his face by resting his head on his hand. His cheeks felt hot.

They finished dinner and made their way back to the hotel room. It was late, now. 

Nagito swiped the keycard and opened the door. Mikan had been standing in front of the door, and the doorknob hit her in the back, shoving her over.

Nagito held a hand up to cover his vision from her unmentionables. She was still in her bathing suit.

"I'm so sorry, Tsumiki!" He pulled her up by her arm.

Mikan rubbed her back where she was hit, "N-No it's alright!"

"You should kill me for it."

"Maybe someday! But n-not today. I'm tired."

Nagito wasn't entirely serious, and neither was she. 

Izuru shrugged off his coat in one fluid motion. His shirt was tight in the chest, accentuating his shoulders and waist. He watches him pull his hair out of the ponytail., it falls down around him perfectly. Nagito wishes he could be close to him. He wishes he could reach out and undo his tie. Flatten his collar. Pull his belt off of him-

They lock eyes. Red on Green.

He can’t look away. He hates the way he desperately drinks up any attention Izuru gives him. He should be so lucky to even be _seen_ by him.

Nagito jumps when Mukuro lays a hand on his shoulder. She was in her pajamas.

“Komaeda, my sister wants to go on a date with you tomorrow.” The sentence was rather comical considering the stone cold serious tone it was said in. 

Despite this, his stomach twisted itself into a knot.

“Yes, of course! It would be my pleasure.”

“Don’t tell that to _me_ I’m not the one you’re taking out.” Mukuro let go of him, turning away to go lay down.

He dreads the idea of spending time alone with her.

He’s excited to spend time with someone who loves him.

Nagito says goodnight to everyone. He enters the joined room where Junko has set up shop. He intends to ask her where she’d like to go tomorrow, but the room is dark when he walks in. He shuts the door.

A floor lamp is turned on, but that’s the only source of light in the room. The windows have been tinted all the way black.

He can’t see where she is, and assumes she’s left the room for an errand.

He unbuttons his dress shirt, pulling it off and laying it on top of the couch.

As he pulled his binder over his head he felt the pressure ease off his chest. He took deep breaths, grateful that he wouldn't have to wear it tomorrow on account of wearing a normal _not-a-size-too-small_ shirt.

He looks at his stomach and sees where his waist band had imprinted on his skin. He silently wishes he had hands gripping his hips. 

Nagito puts on pajamas and walks over to the bed. When he pulls the blanket up he sees figure curled up on the other side of the mattress, a nest of blonde hair rolling over the pillows.

_There she is._

He sighs in disappointment , it was stupid to think she’d just leave. 

He lays down as far away from her as possible. 

Nagito stares at the ceiling for some time, unable to close his eyes without seeing him.

Lately, all he’s able to think about is Izuru. He has no idea why he’s so… attracted to him. All he wants to do is _know_ him (Be known by him). He wants to know everything about him, observe every single little detail of his perfection.

It was embarrassing, really. Only one _mention_ of the massacre at Shibuya has put his very mind at disarray. He finds himself unable to think about anything else _but_ him.

He thinks of Izuru ripping people apart, and his face feels hot, body heavy. He thinks of those sharp red eyes staring into him, bearing into his soul. He thinks of Izuru sinking his teeth into him, making him bleed like any other meaningless human. Using him.

Nagito would die on the spot if Izuru saw him like this- if he _knew_ how he felt about him.

He could possibly reciprocate his feelings, couldn’t he? 

It’s not _impossible._

He reprimands himself for such thoughts. He’s undeserving. Unworthy.

He feels himself drifting off to sleep. He lets himself close his eyes.

A boy can dream.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junko and Nagito kill time until they have to go to the club.  
When they do, he's all tied up for interrogation.  
All the while, Nagito cannot take his mind off Izuru.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it! This chapter is a bit... hornier than the last.  
Also mild depictions of violence and masochistic fantasy.
> 
> (I really like reading comments, so don't be shy!)

He’s woken up to a stupidly bright light. 

“Goooood morning Nagito!”

He sits up and rubs his eyes. Junko had turned off the tint on the windows, letting the morning light shine in.

His eyes feel heavy and sting around the edges.

A good night's sleep is a rare luxury.

Junko hops onto the bed in front of him. She's dressed and all made up, he thinks about smearing her lipstick with his hand to get her out of his face.

"Good morning miss-" She pops a granola bar into his mouth, he takes it from her and chews, "mish Junko."

"Get dressed fast, everyone's already up! I didn't want to disturb you ‘cuz you looked so cuuute." Junko leaned forward to kiss him, Nagito pushed her cheek away.

"Do I have to wear that suit? It's a few sizes too small."

"Nah, I got to see you in it and that's all I wanted." She stands up off the bed, adjusting her knee high boots.

She probably got the wrong size on purpose. Annoyed, Nagito stood to get dressed. 

Junko pulled her makeup box out of the bathroom, balancing a magnifying mirror on her head.

"MIKAN!" She set the mirror down on a desk, "Get in here! I'm gonna do your makeup."

Mikan sort of jogged into the room. She was dressed like a waitress, one you would find at a rather racey bar or country club. She wore a button up long sleeve that barely fit her breasts, a pencil skirt, pantyhose, and red high heels to top it all off.

Nagito wondered what kind of nightclub would allow their servers to dress like that.

He thought the high heels were a bad idea, considering Mikan's rather inconvenient clumsiness. Or maybe Junko made her put them on for just that reason? Made sense to try and make the club staff feel bad for the new employee, tripping over her own feet 

Mikan coughed and sputtered as Junko beat powder into her face.

Nagito got comfortably dressed in the bathroom, with a jacket actually fit him. He flattened his chest with a sports bra. His eyeliner was still there from the day before, slightly chipped, but he was too tired to reapply. 

He found one of Junko's brushes and pulled it through his hair. Hopefully she didn’t have lice. 

He observed the bathroom. The counter was stained with red nail polish (looked fresh) and what looked like eyeshadow powder The shower was tall and completely made of glass. He hoped they wouldn’t stay long- he dreaded the thought of having to shower in that with Junko lurking around.

He throws his pajamas into his bag.

Nagito exits the bathroom and is taken aback when he sees Mikan. She looks like an entirely different person. Her eyeshadow is pink, just like her cheeks, and her lips shine with gloss. Her normally choppy hair was pulled up into a bun. Stray hairs poke out around her head endearingly.

“Miss Tsumiki!” He says, “You’re beautiful! Not that you weren’t already, I mean.”

She laughs nervously, pressing her fingers together with a smile.

“Hey! You didn’t call ME beautiful!” Junko whines annoyingly, “This makeup took forever!”

“Well, I’m glad you tried your best.” 

Her mouth hung open in mock offense and strut off into the other room (supposedly to grab another makeup item), Nagito followed behind her.

Mukuro seemed to be organizing bags once again, she crouched on her heels to dig through each bag, then line it back up against the wall. She was probably _looking_ for something, actually. She seemed more sluggish today, moving slightly less fluid than usual.

Junko picked up a tube of lipgloss. It was pink tinted and had small specks of glitter.

"I bought this lip gloss recently and it’s soooo pretty,” she spread it over her red lipstick, “It also tastes, like, really good,” her lips popped a few times (god, she was pretty), “Do you like it?”

Nagito was about to answer when he realized she wasn’t talking to him, but to Izuru. 

He had his shoulder leaned against the window, gazing down at the people in the parking lot. He ignored her.

“Kamukura.”

…

“Kamukuraaaa.”

…

Junko gave the lip gloss wand a good amount of goop and pulled his shoulder so he would face her. She pressed the wand to his lips and smeared it generously. He grabbed her wrist and thrashed his head around.

“It’s good isn’t it! It’s candy scented!” He pushed her off , and she stumbled back. 

Nagito thought that she’d lose balance on her boot heel and fall, he _wished_ she would fall, but she caught herself and laughed as she went back to the conjoined room.

Izuru clearly didn't like the sensation of lip gloss caked lips. He pulled up his arm to wipe it off on his white sleeve.

“Don’t stain your shirt, we’re going somewhere today.” On instinct- Nagito was always right behind Junko to clean up her messes- he reached his arm up to wipe the gloss off Izurus lips. Nagito's jacket was black, so it wouldn't stain. Izuru let him.

Nagito pulled his arm away, he'd gotten most of it. The only traces left were a few specks of glitter. He was about to pull them off with his fingers, but stopped halfway when he realized how close they were. Nagito noticed Izuru was about an inch taller than him. 

From this distance, he could see the freckles dotting the bridge of Izurus nose.

He realized that he'd been standing there a little too long. 

"Sorry." Nagito stepped back, pointing at his own lips to tell him where the glitter was. Izuru turned back to the window.

"Good morning, Kamukura. How did you sleep?" Morning customs seldom go unbroken.

"I didn't."

"Oh," _please_ don't be awkward, "Then what'd you do?"

"Nothing."

"You couldn't have done _nothing_. That's impossible."

"No, he did," Mukuro said, "I was up all night. All he did was stare out the window."

Nagito sighed internally. He had to have been bored, right? Well, he's always bored. But Izuru could have come and gotten him at any time of night.

Considering what state he was in last night, it probably wouldn't have ended very _clean._

His brains in the gutter again. 

Mikan is suddenly shoved out of the other room, all dolled up. 

"Piggy! Did you find what I asked for?"

"No, I can't find it anywhere." Stress leaked into her voice as she shoved the last bag back against the wall.

Junko's face flashed with anger, making Mikan step away from her, "What do you mean you can't find it?"

"I… I just can't!"

"You _lost_ it?! You're more idiotic than I thought you were!"

"I didn't lose it! I just- I-" Mukuro's voice wavered and she put a hand to her forehead, clearly about to cry. Nagito recalls the very heavy bag he'd handed to Junko yesterday.

Junko laughed gleefully, patting her sister on the head.

"I'm messing around! I have it in my room. I just asked you to find it so you could feel busy. It's also fun to watch you unravel."

Mukuro sighed in relief, looking like she was about to collapse on the spot. 

Nagito felt bad for her, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing _anyone_ could do. 

Junko found out the night before that Bortz arrives at his club around midnight. 

The plan was to drop Mikan off for her first day of work at Bort's club, and she'd let them in through the back door. Mukuro was going with her for extra security. If they were lucky, Bort would be a clear cut target.

To kill time between 11:00 am and 12:00 PM, Junko offered Nagito a date. Izuru was going to be staying in the hotel room.

He hated to leave him alone- hated it more to be alone with _her._

-

"Break a leg, baby! You're gonna make me proud!" Junko blew a kiss at Mikan as she stepped out of the car. Mikan smiled crookedly back at her.

"I'll keep her safe." Mukuro tucked a knife into her boot. Nagito was sure that she had more weapons hidden on her somehow. She exited the car and Junko waved goodbye.

It was just him and Junko in the car now. He anxiously fiddles with his fingers.

"Alright! Where do you want to go?"

_Eight thousand miles away from you._

"My opinion doesn't matter. You pick."

"HELL yeah. Lets go shop lift." Junko pulled the car out of park and started down the road.

"We have the money to pay for anything you could possibly want, miss Junko." He looked at her with a confused smile. 

"Yeah but that's no fun. Let's see how much we can steal without getting caught. Like a competition!"

He nodded, and stared at her while she watched the road. She talked about nothing of consequence, so he didn't pay her any mind. She was beautiful.

He didn't hate her- how could he? Junko has shown him more kindness than he could ever deserve. But he could never say he loves her, not like she wants him to. Not like she forces him to.

At the mall, Nagito walks by a jewelry display. The security cameras suddenly malfunction- lucky for him. He steals a ridiculously expensive diamond ring, it ups his score considerably.

Junko makes a joke saying that the ring is an engagement ring. It makes him gag.

He hates kissing her. She feels like poison on his skin. He rubs the lipstick print off his mouth, wanting no trace of her on his body.

Maybe he really does hate her.

Nagito walks through a department store, following Junko like a dog, and can't help thinking about how much he'd rather be doing this with Izuru.

He wonders what places he's seen. Has he ever been in a mall before? Would that even count as a new experience if a mall is just a combination of things he's done before? 

Has he ever gone to an amusement park? The mental image of Izuru's hair on a roller coaster makes him snicker.

"What're you laughin' at, hon?" She picked up a cat statuette and turned it over.

"Just you." He lied. 

Izuru would get bored of a mall very quickly, wouldn't he? Could always try a bar, but there's no guarantee that Izuru can even _get_ drunk. It's worth a shot, anyway.

Junko stops walking and he almost bumps into her, he's so lost in thought. Apparently she's gotten tired of the shoplifting game.

She holds up a very skimpy black dress to her body. It's more holes than cloth.

"Do you think I'd look good in this?" She posed slightly.

"No." 

She let out an annoyed 'ugh', "You're not romantic at all."

Good, he thinks.

"I think if I wore liiike… some red lingerie under this I could really pull it off!"

"Few people can pull off wearing swiss cheese, Miss."

She slaps him in the arm, "Stop being a smartass!"

He laughs at her, careful not to push it too far.

Junko, thankfully, put the dress back on the rack. He continues trailing behind, tuning her out.

Would Izuru enjoy dancing? Probably not ballroom dancing, because that's definitely one of his talents. A rave maybe. Nagito would like going to a rave with him. Although there's nothing Nagito _wouldn't_ do with Izuru.

If he asked, Nagito would do anything for him. 

The idea of serving him, being _owned_ by him, is more appealing than he'd like to admit. His eye twitches at the thought. He really is disgusting.

Nagito takes in a shaky breath. 

If he wants to try and give Izuru as many experiences as he can, it just makes sense to offer up his body to him for that purpose. To do with whatever he desired. Even…

He can feel himself getting hotter in the face. He screams at himself for getting ahead of himself in the middle of a store.

Nagito looks up at Junko to take his mind off the other boy. She's been picking up clothes while they were walking and he hadn't noticed, she was headed to the checkout. 

Thank god. If he had to walk around this store with only his thoughts any longer he'd snap.

Junko grabs his jacket sleeve.

"Help me talk to the cashier. I want to buy these." She lays the clothes down on the counter.

The cashier looks expectantly at Nagito.

Junko seriously overestimates how much English he knows.

He pointed towards Junko, who was holding out her card. He can tell she feels stupid.

The cashier takes in suspicion, but confirms the checkout anyway.

Junko slings the bag of clothes over her shoulder. Nagito's legs are starting to ache. 

He checks his phone, they still have some time to kill. Junko leaned to see, too.

"Man, fuck. What do we do now?" She whined, stomping her foot.

"We could eat?" They were by the food court anyway.

"Yeah, I want McDonalds. But how are we gonna order food when the cashier is like, 16, white, and stupid?"

Nagito put a finger to his chin. She had a point.

"We could go back to the hotel and eat." Maybe he could see Izuru, too? He feels like a puppy.

"Nah, if I want McDonalds I'm getting motherfuckin McDonalds."

He's sort of disappointed. Junko started walking to the food court. It was actually pretty empty, considering. She pointed to a two person table and slapped her shopping bag into a chair.

"Sit here, I'll be right back."

"What're you going to do?" He sat down and brushed the crumbs off the table.

"Whatever I gotta do to get a fuckin' Big Mac." Junko walked off, her boots echoing on the tile floor.

Nagito imagined her playing charades with the cashier. 

Left alone with his own thoughts, his mind drifted elsewhere. The chatter around him faded into nothingness, the ambience of the mall meaningless to him.

He wondered if Izuru would enjoy hurting him. A seemingly random idea, but one that wouldn't leave the back of his mind ever since they had dinner together. 

_Oh my god, we had **dinner** together. _

He chased off the butterflies from that realization.

Izuru's favorite thing to do is finding all the different ways he can kill someone. Or maybe, it was their reaction that intrigued him. Nagito'd have to ask him to know for sure. 

(He has no idea how he'd even ASK that question.)

He wonders if Izuru would enjoy doing that to him. If he could indulge Izuru's desires even once, that would be perfect. 

Though, there are other ways to indulge someone.

Nagito crosses a leg over the other, tapping a beat into the table.

It felt deplorable to fantasize about him. 

But sexual pleasure _had_ to be something Izuru would enjoy. He chases sensations until they feel null and boring. 

Nagito could imagine eating the spiciest thing on earth for hours on end and eventually the taste would wear off. He could imagine sucking on sour paste for an entire day, and at some point it wouldn't taste like anything. 

Nagito could not, however, imagine having sex for 24 hours straight and getting _bored._

He shifts his legs uncomfortably, breathing a bit harder than before.

And even if the spark wears off, ecstasy is a feeling you can chase again and again and it would never feel less good than the other times. Right?

He may just be being a whore about it.

He still wants to show Izuru that feeling. He still wants Izuru to _make_ him feel that way.

Nagito wants Izuru, and he has no idea what to do about it. 

A big brown paper bag is slammed onto the table in front of him, yanking him out of his thoughts. He jumped in surprise. 

Junko sat down his drink next to him. She had four burgers cradled in her arms like a baby.

Nagito pulled out fries from the bag, happy to have something else to focus on.

She sits down across from him, already chowing down on her first burger.

"How'd you get all this?" 

"Itsh a long shtory. Don't talk to a girl when shes eating itsh not polite." 

"Isn't talking with your mouth full impolite too?"

"Shuddup."

-

Her car kind of smelled like fast food now. 

Junko carried her shopping bag over her shoulder like a runway model. Nagito stared at her heels as he walked behind her.

They were going to drop off their stuff at the hotel and pick Izuru up to go to the club.

Frankly, Nagito didn't think he prepared to see the man he'd been fantasizing about.

They got in the elevator right as Junko's phone started ringing.

"Hello Hello? Hi Muk! Yah, we're picking up Rapunzel right now. "

Nagito watched the floors pass by on the counter. 

"Oh yeah totally, we'll be right over!" She hung up the phone when they reached their floor. 

Junko grabbed Nagito's hand and pulled him along. When he tried to pull away, she gripped harder. He gave up.

Nagito swiped the keycard, thankful he didn't somehow lose it, and pushed open the door.

Junko walked straight to her room, ignoring Izuru still sitting on the couch.

Nagito couldn't bare to talk to him, or greet him like he usually would. He stood awkwardly in the door frame waiting for Junko to get her stuff ready.

Izuru stood up and yawned, which was a new sight. It endeared him, almost. Sometimes Nagito forgets that Izuru's human.

Mostly human, anyway.

Junko was struggling to carry the mysteriously heavy bag out of her door frame.

"Can I get a hand here?" She was straining her voice with exertion.

"Can you?"

"God damn it Izuru will you PLEASE carry this for me!"

Izuru picked up the bag from her hands with little to no trouble at all. It took him a moment to adjust to the weight. 

He's so much stronger than he looks.

Nagito turns away to hide his face.

"What's in this?"

"It's a surprise!"

-

The back of the club was illuminated with a stark white bulb hung over the back door. It made a high pitched buzzing sound, which annoyed Nagito deeply. Music played distantly from inside the building. 

He sat with his back to a dumpster. The night air was pleasantly warm. Izuru stood some distance away, holding onto the straps of the heavy bag. His arms weren't straining at all- which was incredible. 

Junko leaned her shoulder against the wall beside the door. Moths buzzed around the light, casting small shadows onto her face. She looked utterly disinterested.

Nagito wondered how Izuru had spent his thirteen hours. His was pretty lackluster. Being alone with Junko was never fun, but this time she didn't do anything awful to him, which was disappointing in a sick sort of way.

He would have much preferred to keep Izuru's company instead. Maybe they could have gone to the pool? Nagito wouldn't have wanted to swim, but Izuru may have. He doesn't know if he's ever gone swimming before. 

Wait, that's a idiotic notion. Ultimate Swimmer is a talent. Nagito feels somewhat disappointed he won't have an excuse to see Izuru's hair wet. Or see him shirtless.

Nagito turns his head to the ground. He can't think like that when the man in question in his peripheral. It feels wrong, unnatural. 

Truth be told it always feels _wrong._ Izuru is too divine for trash like Nagito to ogle him. The lowest of the low lusting after the highest of the high.

Then again, if he's so lowly, what does he have to lose…?

He stares at his tapping fingers. He spots a small piece of paper under the dumpster. Curious, Nagito slides it into view. It's a ticket of some kind, electric blue in color.

**'ADMIT ONE'**

He puts it into his pocket.

The back door opened with a wheeze, the muffled music became clearer. Mukuro peeked out the side.

"About fuckin' time!" Junko pushed herself off the wall, justifiably annoyed. Mukuro was thirty minutes late. 

Mukuro opened the door wide for her. Nagito stood up off the ground and followed Junko inside. It was a maintenance tunnel.

"Mikan's with him." Mukuro led them down a hallway, stepping over unconscious security guards. "He's tied up, just for you."

The walls were black and peeling, throbbing with bass. Mukuro struggled to open what was seemingly a storage room, she jostled the doorknob before eventually having to bash it with her shoulder.

The doorframe was badly splintered, it looked painful to touch. There was gagged yelling coming from inside.

"Hope Tsumiki hasn't roughed him up too badly."

"Why's that?" Junko stepped inside.

"More fun for you."

Nagito followed behind her. The room had bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling, shelves lined the grey walls and boxes were littered around the floor. It was made of concrete, and too frigid for comfort.

Bortz sat tied up in a folding chair, the metal kind. Nagito was surprised he hadn't fallen over yet. Or maybe he had, and Mikan had to pull 160 pounds of man off the ground.

He was gagged with a wash rag, Nagito could see blood running down his chin and staining the gag. Sweat caked his body, legs and hands bound with multiple zip ties. The plastic dug into his tanned skin in a way that would leave purple rings around his wrists. His hair, which was neat in the picture Junko showed him, was plastered to his forehead.

Bortz looked angry, intensely so, but Nagito could always see someones true fear through their eyes, and Bortz was terrified.

Mikan stood behind her captive, devilishly delighted, arms hugged around his shoulders. 

Her hair which was once neatly pulled up was now coming apart, choppy sections falling on her shoulders. Her button up had popped a button directly in the center of her chest, exposing her black bra. Nagito averted his eyes.

Mukuro walked in after them.

"I'm so sorry for the wait," she said, "he had a clicker on him that called security. I had to eliminate them without alerting the rest of the staff."

Junko was still annoyed, but seemingly forgave her nonetheless. 

"We attempted interrogation like you asked, She wrote questions in English and had him shake his head yes or no."

"Like in middle school!" 

Mikan unhooked her arms from the man, walking over to Junko with her hands clasped together.

"Junko! Junko, did I do well?" Mikan called out, eager for praise. 

"Of course you did!" Junko's tone was semi dismissive, like a parent waving off a child's drawing, "So what'd he say?"

“He’s refused to answer at all.” Mukuro 

“I do like when they play hard to get!” Her accent changed into a stereotypically regal accent. Out of all her tonal quirks, that was Nagito’s least favorite.

Bort’s eyes widened when he recognized her.

“Butler! Put him up against the wall!” Junko turned and held out her arms to Izuru, “Gimme.”

Izuru handed the bag to her, she struggled to hold it, but not as much as the first time.

Mukuro dragged the back of the chair and slung Bortz against the wall. He let out a grunt of pain.

“Make sure he doesn’t fall over.”

Junko set down her bag and dragged a chair from the wall, setting it up across from him. Her grin was sickly and twisted- dripping with malicious excitement. It’s a familiar sight, one Nagito’s seen many times, but it’s effect on him has never wavered.

Nagito moved to stand next to Izuru at the back of the room. He can’t figure why.

She unzips the bright pink bag in one perfect motion, pulling out a crossbow bigger than her entire arm. Black chrome with reinforced limbs. She set it in her lap and pulled a sleek, metal arrow from the bottom of the bag. It made a scraping noise against the other bolts in the bag. It wasn’t shaped like the standard arrow, more like a skinny stake with an extremely pointed tip.

Bortz kicked his feet frantically to no avail, he would’ve tipped the chair over if not for Mukuro holding the chair down effortlessly.

Junko loaded the bolt into the wire of the crossbow lying across her lap, it clicked into place. She turned off the safety and shakily trained her sights onto the captive. 

“Ungag him.” Her fake accent dropped. In fact, she sounded serious, which was always so much worse.

He gasped when the soldier ripped out the washcloth. Blood covered his teeth.

"Kamukura? Could you pleeeaaase be my translator?" She turned back to look at them, eyes bright with glee, "Tell him I want to know where his weapons warehouse is."

"Don't bother, I can speak your language." Bortz blurted out. His accent was a little odd, and his pronunciation was wobbly at best.

"How much of it? Do I have to talk to you like a baby?"

He growled furiously, yanking at his restraints once more.

"I'm not telling you _anything._" 

"Bet." She pulled the trigger. The bolt cut through the air and shot into his calf with a wet 'thunk'. 

Bortz shouted in pain, grinding his teeth together.

"Aw, I missed the warning shot," Junko lied, "Damn this heavy hunk of junk."

Nagito watched in admiration. She was very talented in her craft. Terrifyingly so. He noticed movement at the side of his eye, and turned to look at Izuru.

His eyes were wide, intense. Red irises darted to every inch of the scene in front of him, soaking up every single detail. His breathing was only slightly heavier than normal- a detail Nagito was surprised he noticed. Izuru was intrigued, entertained. It made the other boy shiver.

Nagito again wondered if Izuru would ever want to hurt him. If Izuru would ever want to touch him. His constant smile shook on his face as he imagined it. 

If it was Izuru on the other side of the crossbow, he wouldn't mind. He'd gladly help him satisfy his cravings. Nagito wondered if Izuru would ever satisfy _his._

A pang shoots into his stomach at the thought.

"Alright, everybody out," Junko loaded another bolt into the bow, "Except Mukuro."

Mukuro nodded. She pulled Bortz' head up by his hair.

Mikan whimpered in worry, "But-"

"Obviously our friend here is intimidated by our entourage!" Junko interrupted, "You'd _know_ that if you paid attention for once in your pathetic life!"

Mikan grew quiet and retracted her objections.

"Go back to the hotel, or hell, stay at the club if you want."

"I just… want to s-stay where you a-are." Mikan had tears pricking her eyes.

"There's a VIP lounge you could sit at. It's quiet up there, but I think you need to be mailed a ticket." Mukuro piped up.

"I don't CARE where you people go, just get the fuck out before I turn your heads into kebabs!" Junko shouted, throwing her car keys at Izuru.

Nagito grabbed Mikan's arm and pulled her away back into the maintenance hall. She was shaking just slightly.

He looked behind him to make sure Izuru was following. He was shutting the door behind them. 

"You're alright." Nagito turned to Mikan, he buttoned her blouse back up.

Her lip quivered. 

He suddenly remembered what he'd picked up in the alley.

"Tsumiki!" He pulled the ticket out of his pocket, "this may be what you're looking for!"

"M-Maybe!" Mikan smiled, taking it from him, "I'll try it. If it d-doesn't work I'll j-just walk…"

The thought of Mikan walking along the streets in an outfit like that worried him, but he felt confident that his luck had played its part. 

Izuru drove the car and they rode in total silence. It was almost one in the morning. He felt it, too. It'd been a long day.

He leaned his head back and watched Izuru drive. He observed the way his tendons moved with every turn, how his fingers bent around the wheel, how quick his movements were. He watched until he couldn't anymore.

Nagito couldn't bare to sit so close to him. His legs began to shake. He pressed them shut and wished Izuru would yank them open. 

Gross.

He was on the verge of sleep when the car stopped, Izuru touched his arm to wake him. Nagito flinched at the contact. 

The receptionist was asleep at her desk, no one was in the lobby. Their steps echoed off the walls. He stared at his feet as he walked. He was afraid he'd stare again- because he knew he would.

Nagito pushed for an elevator, the doors opened immediately.

One thing he never noticed until now was that the elevators weren't nearly as expensive-looking as the rest of the hotel.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izuru and Nagito are stuck in an elevator together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love reading comments left on my work! So don't be shy!

Nagito stepped into the elevator, putting his arm on the sensors to keep the doors open for Izuru. He probably didn't have to, but it was just polite.

Izuru pushed their floor number.

The elevator had a wooden interior with a mirror on the top half of the walls. The floor was thinly carpeted.

Nagito's legs deeply ache from all the walking he'd done that day. He watched the floor counter go up. 

6, 7, 8, 9, 10-

It flickered off. 

Nagito's smile dropped. He saw Izuru glance at his new expression.

_Please don't do this to me._

The elevator started going slower as if it was stopping at a floor, then stopped all together.

The lights flickered briefly but thankfully stayed on.

Nagito balled his fists in utter frustration. Of _course_ this would happen to him. He's the only person something like this _could_ happen to.

Izuru pressed for the door to open, but none of the buttons were responsive. Not even 'help'.

He looked down at the button pad in an odd way. Like it had deeply disappointed him.

"I'm sorry." Nagito said as he ran a hand through his hair, "It's my fault it stopped."

"I know." Izuru sat down in the corner opposite to the other boy.

Sitting down sounded like a good idea.

"I'll text Junko and tell her what happened. When she sees it she'll get here she and alert staff." He pulled out his phone.

"She'll probably be done around four." Izuru said.

Nagito can only shrug off his anger from the situation. He can't get mad at his luck- it's a waste of energy, which he is seriously lacking.

He listened to the monotonous hum of the overhead light.

He turned his attention to Izuru, who was tapping on the carpet in boredom. His fingers moved in swift, fluid motions.

Nagito was staring without realizing. He dragged his eyes up the boys arm, then turning his focus to his lips. 

"Why do you stare?" 

Nagito flinched in surprise. Izuru wasn't even looking at him.

"I spaced out, I apologize."

"Don't lie to me." 

His direct tone made Nagito shiver.

"You stare at me constantly." Izuru looked directly at him.

"You're exaggerating." He didn't deny it- he couldn't lie.

"Not really." 

They sat in silence for an uncomfortable amount of time. He watched the floor intensely. He wanted to see if Izuru was still looking at him but wouldn't risk the embarrassment if he was caught again. He has no idea what he should do.

"Your legs are shaking."

"Nervous habit." He hadn't even noticed his trembling.

"No it's not. You dig your thumb nail into your index finger when you're nervous. You're lying."

Nagito's shock quickly melts into embarrassment. He grits his teeth with a click of the jaw.

_He'd been observing him?_

"What are you lying for? Why do you keep watching me?"

Nagito swallows his pride and turns to face the other boy.

"I just admire you. Alot."

"I _know_ that."

"And I look at you and think of all the new things I could show you." It's unfairly difficult to maintain eye contact. 

"What kind of things?" Izuru asked suspiciously. He definitely didn't believe that was the only reason.

"Interesting foods, pretty places, new sensories. Things like that." He managed a smile.

"Why do you care?"

Nagito paused. That was the one question in his mind he was never able to answer. He paused, looking to the floor in thought.

"I enjoy your company, and I'm genuinely interested in getting to know you. As stupid and idiotic as that is. I don't even deserve to be in the same room as you, let alone waste your-"

"Komaeda."

Nagito looks up in surprise. He realizes he's somehow gotten within an arm's reach of the other boy.

"I will never understand you."

Nagito laughs softly. Few people ever will understand him. But that implies Izuru has tried to, and that makes him happy.

Nagito observes the way Izuru's hair falls over his shoulders, down his back, around his face. It shines in the light and waves perfectly around his body. No imperfections.

He looks at the freckles on the bridge Izuru's nose. He doesn't realize he's leaned toward him to do so.. Nagito starts to count them.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,...

Izuru grabs his jaw, knocking Nagito back to reality. 

"What 'sensories' did you want to show me?"

you have nothing to hide, his tired mind tells him, just ask.

"Have you ever been kissed before?" He asks. He's pretty sure he knows the answer, but he wants to hear Izuru say it. 

"Of course not."

"Would you like to be?" Nagito ignores the part of himself screaming to apologize. He can't help himself. 

"Not especially."

Nagito is disappointed, reminded that nobody would ever _want_ him. He smiles anyway.

"That's alright. I won't unless you tell me t-" He starts to lean back.

A hand pulls Nagito forward by the curve of his jaw, he lets out a small noise at the sudden movement.

Their lips meet plainly. Not soft but not roughly. Nagito is late to react, deciding to live in the moment now and regret it later.

It's nothing special- partly because one has never done it before, and the other has limited experience.

Nagito underestimated how fast Izuru can learn.

The hand on his jaw slides to the back of his head, tangling into Nagito's hair. Izuru pushes onto him, forcing the other boy to lean back on his hands.

He didn't _genuinely_ expect this to happen,

Izuru's left arm wraps around the others' waist for support, his knees straddling Nagito's legs.

What is he supposed to do? Reciprocating would probably make this better. Izuru didn't say what he wanted, so he doesn't know what he should give.

Nagito's lips parted in the kiss. Izuru pulled away just enough to look at the boy underneath him, seemingly trying to decide if he wanted to keep doing this.

Nagito couldn't get a read on how he felt about the situation. Izuru would definitely drop him if he wasn't enjoying it. 

The boy on top pressed back into him, sliding his tongue along Nagito's. 

His eyes closed as Izuru pushed into his mouth. He hadn't meant to close them- he wanted to keep them half lidded. He wanted to observe Izuru as he always has- he might never get to experience this again and he had to soak in _everything._

But Izuru closes his mouth around his, and Nagito can't focus on anything but how _hot_ he felt in his mouth. He knew he could never get enough of this now that he had tasted it- tasted _him._

It's so different from other kisses he'd had before. So much _better._

Izuru rolled his head, and Nagito followed his lead, wrapping his arms around the other boys' shoulders. His hair was as soft as it looked.

Izuru moved both his arms to support him, holding Nagito in place with only his own strength. Not that he was particularly heavy- but it still made his body feel hot. Izuru could yank him around like a rag doll and he wouldn't be able to stop him.

The thought of being manhandled like that sent a spark down his spine, landing in between his legs. 

Izuru pulled away, and Nagito whimpered at his absence. When he opened his eyes he noticed that their chests had pressed together. His heart was beating so loudly he worried Izuru could feel it.

Red eyes stared into his. Red on green.

Was he looking for a signal to keep going? Does he want to?

Nagito doesn't know how far this should go, only how far he _wants_ it to. He feels Izuru's chest rising up and down against his, lips parted and slick. 

Nagito swallows the knot in his throat.

"Do you-"

"Shut up."

Izuru pulls on Nagito's hair, soaking up his pained whimper and dipping back down to kiss him once again. Nagito moans into his mouth, back arching into his chest. 

Their eyes locked, watching each other through half-lidded gazes.

He wondered if Izuru was truly enjoying this, or just trying to pass the time. He couldn't complain either way.

Izuru's hand slid down and rested on the small of his back, pulling Nagito into him. He feels something firm press against his stomach. He gasps, breaking the kiss, much to Izuru's annoyance.

He pressed his thigh up between Izuru's legs. He hissed, clawing at Nagito's back. He moans at the pain, as dull as it is, exhaling hot breath into Izuru's neck. 

Nagito pushes his thigh up again. Izuru gripped the other boys' leg, keeping it from moving again. He sets Nagito down on the ground, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

Nagito tried to get a hold of himself. Izuru had reached in his mouth and pulled out his breath.

Sitting on the ground with Izuru straddling him left Nagito at the perfect height to do what he wanted- he just needed Izuru's permission to do so.

"Kamukura," hearing how pathetic his voice sounds makes his face heat up in embarrassment, "Do you want me to suck you off?"

Izuru nodded, he could sense traces of enthusiasm behind his eyes- and that's all Nagito needed.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the tent in his pants. His breath was hot, heavy. Izuru hissed through his teeth, gripping onto the other boys' jaw.

If Izuru wanted it, then he had no reason to refuse. 

Nagito folded his fingers into the buckle, fiddling with his belt. He slid it off with relative ease.

He'd only done this once before, to a boy from his high school class. He regretted not having more experience, for Izuru's sake, but the boy had told him he was a natural. Here's hoping he was telling the truth.

His hands shook as he pulled the button through the hook- his mouth started to water. 

He looked up at Izuru as he pulled his pants apart. His expression was blank.

He wondered what he thought of him. Did he find him intriguing? Did he like his company? 

A silly question considering Izuru doesn't particularity _like_ anything.

Nagito pulled Izuru's dick from his boxers, his eyes widened in what _could_ be classified as fear.

He was big. Exactly how big, Nagito wasn't sure, but it caused his boxers to become embarrassingly wet.

He had no idea how he was going to fit that in his mouth- but he was going to try. He smiled- genuinely, longingly, head suddenly much lighter than before.

Izuru hooked his thumb in the side of Nagito's mouth, sliding to press on his thumb- an action that made Nagito shudder below him.

Nagito gripped his shaft and stroked, fingers fitting perfectly around him.

He presses his lips to the tip of his dick and kisses it softly, Izuru's eyelid flickers at the sensation. He strokes him a bit faster, taking the head into his mouth.

Izuru moans softly- and Nagito soaks it up like sugar water. He loved it. He wanted to hear more of it. He loved making Izuru _feel_ something- making him feel _good._

He took immense pride in the moment. One simple noise inspired him to let loose.

Nagito dragged his mouth along his length, scraping his teeth across his skin when he went back up. 

Izuru pulled on the boys hair unexpectedly, yanking him backward.

"Ah-"

"Don't do that."

Nagito nodded obediently, he didn't wish to upset him. A part of him wanted to use his teeth again, just to see if Izuru would hurt him more, but he didn't want to ruin it.

Nagito gripped the base and slowly pushed his mouth onto Izuru's dick. He focused on not gagging, first and foremost, closing his eyes to focus.

He reached the middle of his shaft before having to pull himself back up, spit drooling out of his mouth.

He took him into his mouth again, Izuru sharply exhaled when he hit the back of his mouth. Nagito watched his eyes twitch as he bobbed his head along his dick. 

Nagito took a deep breath through his nose and forced himself to take more. He moaned as he felt the others' dick twitch in his throat. 

He pulled himself back for air once again, which seemingly annoyed Izuru. Nagito apologized by gently kissing the tip- precum smearing on his lips.

He took in everything Izuru had to offer- he _loved_ it. He loved this. He loved having Izuru inside him. It's just as perfect as he thought it would be.

Nagito shoved him down his throat fervently, still unable to take it all. To make up for his shortcomings, Nagito swallowed around his dick, and it was like a switch flipped.

Izuru gripped the sides of Nagito's face and shoved himself down the boys throat.

Nagito sputtered and gasped for air, choking around him. This only encouraged him further, holding down Nagito's head and prohibiting him from getting air when he wanted to. His eyes watered from gagging, eyeliner smearing across his cheeks. 

Izuru fucked Nagito's throat with almost no restraint, digging his nails into his skin for better grip. He moaned deliciously with each thrust, making the experience far more than worth it.

Nagito could feel Izuru's pace lose its rhythm and started to suck. The boy above him pulled Nagito's head down completely- shoving his entire length down his throat. Izuru let out a long hiss from behind his teeth as he crossed the edge.

Nagito felt lightheaded as hot cum filled his mouth. His legs shook, and his own dick was aching for attention. Attention he wouldn't be receiving. 

He pulled off Izuru's dick with a wet pop.

"You don't have to-"

Nagito looked him dead in the eyes and swallowed. 

Izuru averted his eyes from the sight- a sign that Nagito hoped meant he'd flustered him.

His phone started to ring. He wiped his mouth and prepared himself to speak to Junko.

"Yes, hello?" He concealed his heavy breathing.

Izuru fixed his pants and put his belt back on. His face was flushed, eyes still wide.

"You got stuck in an _elevator?!_"

"Yes ma'am." He laughed nervously, dick taste still fresh on his tongue. He desperately needed water when they got out.

She laughed wickedly, "Sounds just like you. When we get to the hotel we have to pack up fast. The police will be in town soon."

Nagito stood up, starkly aware of the wetness in his pants. He briefly wonders what she's done to Bortz, but decides it's too soon after a blowjob to think about murder.

Then again, depending on the mood, post-blowjob is the best time to think about murder.

"Yes, right. Please alert staff about the s-"

He's cut off by Izuru forcing the elevator doors open, the metallic noises scraped against Nagito's ears.

"...Nevermind. We'll start packing up immediately." Nagito hung up the phone before she could question him further.

He walked through the open door frame onto one of the middle floors. The doors shut again when Izuru let go.

"Why didn't you do that earlier?" Nagito could barely hide the annoyance in his voice. 

"To see what you would do."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junko gets what she wanted out of Bortz, and the crew packs up and speeds toward their real target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Murder happens, like a lot of murder. Gets steamy near the end.
> 
> (I love reading comments on my work, so don't be shy!!)

The hotel air was cold compared to the stuffiness of the elevator. It made Nagito's arms form goosebumps, stinging up his body. 

Izuru made a hard left down the hall. Nagito had no choice but to follow him. 

His mind lagged behind with his body. He was tired, more so than normal- his legs strained to keep up. 

The taste of Izuru wouldn't leave his mouth, nor would the uncomfortable wetness between his legs- constantly reminding him of how _badly_ he still wanted Izuru inside him--

He can't think like that- can't think selfishly. It was a one time thing.

They walked past many numbered rooms. Nagito didn't think to read any of the plaques- not that he could, anyway. 

The bright bulbs in the hallways caused a dull ache just behind his eyes. He rubbed his eyes to try and ease the pain. 

Nagito's foot knocked into a wheel, causing his already flimsy balance to topple. In the blink of an eye, Izuru caught him by the wrist and pulled him up. 

He couldn't believe he was this tired. 

He nodded apologetically to the cleaning lady who's cart he stumbled into.

Izuru dragged him along by the wrist. Annoyed or passive, Nagito couldn't tell.

Even in his exhausted state, he still recognized that Izuru put in effort to keep him from falling. He put in effort _for him._ This has been twice now that he's done this (that he can remember). 

Nagito couldn't think of any other person that would do that for him- and he can't fathom as to why someone like Izuru would do that. 

Perhaps it's a bit silly to blush over Izuru not letting him fall, but he can't bring himself to care. Any act of kindness from him is something Nagito treasures.

"Thank you." 

Izuru didn't respond. 

They hung a left and reached the stairs. The number on the side of the door was 11, and if memory serves, the room was on the 20th.

Nagito dreaded the upcoming climb. He briefly wondered if Izuru would carry him- but he'd never actually ask someone to do that.

The stairs were made of grey stone, and the handrails were chipped to reveal the rusted metal underneath. 

"What did Enoshima say on the phone?" The hinges on the door squealed as he pushed it open.

Nagito had almost forgotten she'd called him. He struggled to remember her exact wording.

"She said to pack up as fast as we can," his wrist began to sting from his firm grip, but he found he didn't mind at all, "and that she's on her way."

“Quicker than I expected.”

Izuru's pace up the stairs was swift, and much too fast for the other boys' screaming legs. Nagito put his focus into not tripping again, which would be utterly embarrassing. 

He watched his feet to be sure that he wouldn't fall. The methodical pitter-patter of his footsteps echoed off the walls. Izuru's footsteps were much quieter. 

They went up and up and up- and Nagito's ditzy head was proving to be a problem. His vision started to fuzz around the edges.

His foot slipped as they rounded a corner, and Izuru caught him before he even knew he was falling.

"I’m sorry.” he said, “You don’t have to keep track of me.”

“I don’t care.”

Izuru tugged him along. Nagito felt his mouth curve into a small smile.

Nagito let out a shaky, relieved breath when he spotted the 20th exit. It was bittersweet, as he knew he wouldn’t be able to have a moment's rest.

Izuru let go of him once they reached their room, Nagito missed the dull pain the grip caused him- he observed the red ring left by his hand. He thought it was beautiful, unlike any mark Junko had ever left on him. He wanted more of them.

Izuru swiped the keycard and pushed open the door for him.

“I’m going to check out of the room and bring up a luggage cart.”

“Will they let you check out this late?” He was hoping that Izuru would stay and help him clean.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Izuru didn’t get the hint- or maybe he did, and just didn’t humor it. He turned and walked back towards the stairway. Nagito watched him leave, already missing his company.

What a stupid feeling.

Nagito averted his attention from Izuru to the room. He started to map out how he was going to clean all of this. He would have to guess whose clothes were whos. He decided to start with Mukuro and Mikan's bathroom on the far right, and work his way to Junko’s bathroom on the far left of the conjoined room.

Their bathroom was uncluttered, only a single makeup box left nested in the sink. Mikan’s, probably, guessing by all the pink shades of eyeshadow. 

Nagito at himself in the mirror. His forced smile has dropped from his face. He doesn’t remember when he’d stopped smiling. During Junko’s date? When he and Izuru left the nightclub?

His eyeliner had run down his face from… earlier. He chases the memory out of his mind. Remembering that is for another time, he needs to focus. He wets his fingers with his tongue and rubs off the faint streaks running from the corner of his eyes.

He put the stray makeup pallets in the box and sets it in the main room along the wall with all the other bags.

Nagito remembered that Mukuro’s bag was the black duffel bag. He’d only seen her wear one outfit besides her bathing suit, so she probably didn’t bring much. He scans the room for objects that look like hers, careful not to miss anything.

He spots a knife that is most certainly Mukuro’s, it clangs as he tosses it into the duffel bag. 

Curious, as clothes aren’t usually made of metal (but he supposes miss Ikusaba is the only woman who would wear them if they existed), he looks inside. As it turns out, the only normal items in the bag is her pajama bottoms and socks. The rest are weapons. He isn’t surprised.

A black one piece laid on the floor. He stuffs her swimsuit into the bag, figuring that was the only other thing Mukuro would have left out. 

She didn’t get a lot of downtime this trip. Not that she ever does, Junko works her to the bone. She’ll work her to death one day, he thinks. 

They're not close by any means, Mukuro isn't close with anyone but her sister, but he feels bad for her all the same.

Nagito zips the duffel bag up and sets it back against the wall. 

Mikans suitcase had been left open, clothes had been tossed and strewn about from Mukuro's search that morning.

He gathered Mikan's clothes from around the room and tossed them into a small pile by her suitcase. Sitting down felt wonderful to his aching body.

Nagito rolled her pantyhose, setting it in a corner of the suitcase.

His favorite maid had taught him how to fold clothes when he was a child. He was sad that she had to do all the work, and he'd asked her to teach him how to help.

She'd sat him in her lap and laid her hands over his, guiding him to fold clothes. Her brown hair fell on his shoulders as she leaned over his small body. 

He can't remember the fine details, like how her perfume smelled or what she was saying. But he remembered her, and that's all that matters.

He doesn't know why he's thinking of this now. It truly doesn't matter, not at all. Not now.

Nagito finished folding Mikan's clothes. He placed her makeup box in the empty corner of the suitcase and closed it.

He had to stand up again, and wobbled as he tried to regain his balance. He caught himself on the bedpost.

The girls were packed, and Izuru didn't bring any luggage. All that was left was the conjoined room, and then he'd get to rest for a bit if luck favored him.

Junko brought three suitcases full of clothes that she didn't wear. 'Just in case' she'd said. 

He was almost fairly certain she'd packed so much specifically to wear her sister out, but it's always possible she's just that much of a diva.

He took no care with packing her loose clothes, stuffing them into random cases. He gathered up her makeup from the bathroom and crammed it into her makeup box. For a fashionista, she isn't very careful where she leaves her stuff. 

His own clothes were easy to put back. He put his and Junko's luggage against the wall with the others, thankful he didn't have to pick up the bag with the crossbow. He'd probably faint if he tried.

There was a knock on the door, Nagito opened the door to let Izuru in. He smiled at him. 

It wasn't reciprocated.

They loaded the cart with the bags. Nagito sighed with the realization he wouldn't get to lie down before leaving. 

The beds were hard to say goodbye to.

"I hope I got everything." He pushed the cart out the door, straining his already shot legs."There's nothing that you could have forgotten that they would miss." Izuru took the cart from him.

He supposes Izuru's right.

They wait in silence for the elevator.

Izuru's under eyes are almost a purple color. Nagito hopes they can all get some sleep soon.

The elevator is quick to arrive, quick to descend. Nagito fights his own mind to not think about Izuru, and what they did. It's for another day.

The receptionist at the desk is the same one from the first night, and she's hardly awake. She's just as tired as he is, but still manages a smile when they turn in the room key. 

Izuru pops the trunk with a button on the car keys. Nagito fills the trunk with the suitcases and put the bags that wouldn’t fit in the backseat. 

He sat down in the right side of the backseat, and soundly decided he wasn’t going to move for anyone. A car had never felt so good. He shut his heavy eyes. 

Nagito’s phone started to ring. He held it outside the window for Izuru to answer, not even opening his eyes. He couldn't even if he wanted to.

The sounds around him muffled before disappearing completely. He lays his head against the door, falling asleep to the gentle hum of the engine.

-

“Okay, first of all, _don’t_ call my plans dumb. I’ll _hurt_ you.”

His eyes crack open, vision blurry and slow.

“Second of all, I don’t give a FUCK what it costs! I want people there and I want them there as soon as possible!”

He shifted his body, face twisting in pain from the pain in his back. He's suddenly reminded why sleeping in cars isn't the best idea.

“I’m talking as fast as humanly possible. Like if they’re sleeping wake them up with a fuckin airhorn and shove them out the door in their PJ’s! Get them there before I get there, or I’ll fuckin' kill you!”

Nagito watched the street lights speed by through the window. Blurs of orange.

Junko threw her phone onto the dashboard. The loud clatter finally jumped him fully awake.

"Are you awake?" She asked. She sounded annoyed still from whoever was on the phone with her. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

He nodded, sitting up fully. Something cold bumped into his arm, he turned to see Mikan handing him a soda.

He mouthed 'thank you' to her, and she nodded appreciatively. Her hair was all the way down now, and in dire need of brushing. She sat in the middle of the backseat.

"Who was that? What're we doing?" Nagito's voice oozed with exhaustion. He quietly opened the can.

He leaned to look at the car clock. It was four in the morning. At best, he'd had a measly hour long nap.

Junko's phone started ringing again. She swiped it off the dashboard with an angry huff.

"Um," Mikan was careful to keep her voice down while Junko made her call, "They c-came and got me when they were done. Would have left me behind if Ikusaba hadn't remembered…"

He was relieved she made it alright. Junko was talking calmly over the phone, a business call most likely.

"Bortz cracked e-eventually. So it's okay."

"What did she even want from him?" He matched her volume with a whisper, "I thought she just wanted to kill him."

"Oh," She looked into her lap in thought, "He was m-manufacturing weapons for Future Foundation. She wanted to know where."

"What kind of weapons?"

"Explosives." She made a small 'blowing up' gesture with her hands, "And guns… and o-other things probably… we're going there right now."

"To do what?" 

"I… I'm not sure…" Tears welled up in her eyes. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"It's perfectly fine if you don't know. We'll find out soon anyway, just tell me what you think."

She clasped her hands. He wondered what had gotten her so frazzled. Maybe Junko had blown up on her.

"I think she wants to take them for herself. She's been asking for p-people to come with trucks, but I d-don't think it's working."

Junko yelled into her phone, apparently so mad that she let go of the wheel. The car swerved slightly, Mikan gripped onto him in alarm. 

Mukuro took the wheel swiftly and straightened the car.

"Little slow tonight, aren't we?" Junko put a hand over her phone's speaker, "Normally you'd see that coming before the car wiggled. Does baby need a nap?"

"No, Junko." Her voice was quiet and scratchy.

She huffer and returned to her phone call, Mukuro now driving one-handed.

Mikan let out a shaking breath. He was hardly phased. Maybe just too tired to be.

He took a sip from his soda and looked out the window. There was no one else to share the road with, only trees and powerlines.

"I'm almost there and I don't see anyone else here! The police are going to be hot on my ass, I'm sure that the manager squealed."

Junko flipped the blinker in a comically angry fashion. Mukuro turned the car onto the exit. He tuned her out.

Junko had contacts all over the world that could, apparently, give her almost anything she wanted. They could have gotten her the hotel room, too. He figures that she only calls them when necessary, as having things handed to you on a silver platter would be pretty boring.

His eyes still feel heavy, his legs still ache. 

Junko hung up, tossing her phone into the dashboard once again and retook the wheel. 

"Left." Izuru said, Nagito almost forgot he was here. His dark form blended in seamlessly with the shadows.

She let out a 'huh?' as she looked out her side window, then beamed with excitement. She sharply turned onto the road. 

The warehouse was rather unremarkable. It was shielded by tall trees and lit with two street lamps on either side of its frame. The exterior was ruffled metal, peeling in large spots to reveal rust underneath. What looked like a garage door was placed just next to the front door. It was smaller than he was expecting, no bigger in floor space than a service station. It resembled a storage unit more than a warehouse.

Junko parked recklessly, the tires squealed as she slammed the breaks and drifted into parallel.

Nagito expected it and braced himself on the door. Mikan knocked into his shoulder once again.

“Hand me my bag.” Mukuro outstretched her hand into the backseat. Izuru handed her duffel bag over, and she began to rummage through it.

Junko got out of the car and stretched her arms into the air. She had a spring in her step, clearly excited for whatever she was planning.

He opened the door and helped Mikan out of the car. Her legs wobbled like a baby deer. It was a clumsy sight.

“My legs f-fell asleep,” She braced herself on him, “I’m sorry…”

He waved her off, “It’s no problem at all.”

A cold breeze ran through the lot, kicking leaves up and spinning them in circles. Izuru’s hair blew with it in fluid motions, black strands weaving around his body perfectly- it was something out of a fairy tale. 

Junko gripped his arm, dragging Nagito out of his trance and toward the door.

“Help me with this.” She shoved him at the lock. It was a padlock inserted between the rusty doorknob and the door frame. It had six slots in total for a three letter and three number combination, and a key to go in the bottom.

A rather intricate and expensive lock for such an unimpressive building. 

Junko shoved a small key into the bottom of the lock.

“Unlock it.”

He paused with his hands on the lock. Was this a test? Had she told him the code previously? How could he forget something so important! He racked his brain for any memory or mention of a code, and turned up with nothing. His face went cold. He swallowed the knot forming in his throat.

“_Guess_ it!” She insisted, moving his thumbs along the sliders.

Nagito exhaled in relief. She just wanted to use his luck. He was way too tired for this.

He slid the wheels randomly, creating a nonsense code that he didn’t really expect to be correct.

Junko turned the key, and it popped open with a click. She grinned, yanking the chain off the door handle. He couldn’t say he was surprised it worked.

The door squealed in an _agonizing_ high pitch. She grimaced as she opened it. 

Several bright light bulbs illuminated the room from the ceiling. They hurt to look at. Colorful spots dotted in his vision as he looked away.

Shelves were lined up along the walls, a variety of boxes laid upon them. There was a rickety looking staircase connecting to the second floor, which was probably a copy of the first. There was another garage door on the other side of the building.

In the center of the room, a hatch.

Mikan trailed in right behind them. 

“Man, what?” Junko said, ”I was told they made the stuff here, too.”

“Maybe the hatch?” Nagito said, pointing her in its direction. 

She went to pull it up. It didn’t budge. She kicked it in frustration.

Nagito wandered over to the shelves. He wondered if this was really the right place, it’s possible that Bortz lied.

He struggled to open the crate. Mikan watched him for a moment, before having some kind of epiphany. She gestured for him to give her a moment, and ran off to search for something.

“Have you found anything?” Mukuro asked. He hadn’t heard her come in. She had two pistols strapped to her sides and a heavy looking assault rifle slung over her shoulder. 

She was more tired looking than he expected.

“Just this hatch thing. It won’t budge, though.”

Mikan came back sheepishly, and handed him a crowbar. 

Nagito slipped it into the sides of the top and yanked down. The lid opened with a pop. 

Inside, a rather large rocket launcher sat in the padding. Looking closer, he saw a logo along the forward grip. ‘Future Foundation’. Bortz had told the truth.

“This is the right place.” He said.

“Did you think it wasn’t?”

“I had my doubts.”

“You doubted me? My intelligence?” Her body stiffened, tone growing cold and angry.

“No, miss Junko,” he smiled for her, “I doubted Bortz’ honesty.”

“That’s doubting my talents, Nagito. Doubting _me._”

“That’s not… what I intended.” A knot formed in his throat. He couldn’t tell if she only wanted a reaction out of him, or if he really had done something wrong. He’d never want to doubt her, doubt her resolve, doubt her despair. That’s not what he meant at all. But she seemed so angry that he became unsure of his own truth-

“Liar,” She jabbed her finger at him accusingly, smile crooked, “You-”

A loud, piercing noise interrupted her and echoed through the building. Metal shredding on metal, bending and crushing.

Junko turned from him to the source of the noise. Izuru stood above what was now a hole in the floor, holding the hatch lid in his hands. He had ripped it off its hinges.

Nagito's face grew hot at the sight.

"The factory is underground." He let go of it, letting it slam into the ground with a loud crash.

"OW!" Junko exclaimed, "Cut that shit out!"

She seemingly forgot all about what had just happened. She went over to look inside.

Nagito sighed quietly. Mukuro shot him a sympathetic look- one he had never seen on her before. It felt like he wasn't meant to see it.

"Ohh, neat!" Junko said, happily, "Mukuro! Come with me."

Mukuro followed Junko up the staircase, tue metal squealed with every step. It sounded like it would fall apart any minute now.

With Junko gone, Nagito walked over to look inside the hatch. 

It was a thick industrial latter that went down into the dark. There was a light further on, but Nagito couldn't see the source. Probably a hallway into the factory.

Now that the hatch was open, he could faintly hear machinery whirring from deep inside. It didn't sound nearby per se, more that the echo carried it some distance. There was something that sounded like people… talking? Workers? He strained his ears to listen.

"If you keep leaning you're going to fall."

Nagito looked up at Izuru, laughing at his own stupidity. He was practically head first into the hatch. Mikan leaned to look, interested in the sound he'd heard too.

A large crate dropped down from the second floor, the sudden sound causing Mikan to flinch backwards with a cry. He almost expected her to fall in.

Another crate dropped down, along with a bag that clanked against the stone floor.

"Do you have any clue what they're doing?" Nagito stood up off the ground.

"They haven't told me anything, no."

"I'm assuming that means you have a guess?"

He didn't answer. 

"...I think people are down there." Nagito murmured..

Sirens sounded in the distance. Izuru was the first to notice, whipping his head toward the sound.

Junko let out a loud 'SHIT!' that could be heard from the first floor. A third crate dropped onto the floor. It busted open this time- a few sticks of dynamite came tumbling out and rolled on the floor.

Junko hopped over the staircase, landing on her feet perfectly- and in heels, no less.

Mukuro ran out right behind her. The sirens only drew closer. Junko's phone started to ring.

"Nagito, open these crates!" She pulled out her phone, "Mikan, go open the garage door."

Nagito picked up the crowbar and went to work, popping the lids as fast as he could. Mikan found the controls for the garage next to the front door. 

"Not THAT one, the other one!" Junko shouted. Mikan ran across the building to follow her direction- Junko sounded stressed, which meant it was crunch time. She's not playing anymore.

"Think it'll be a lot?" He asked, mostly to himself.

"A lot of what?" Izuru answered him. He got on his knees and helped Nagito open the crates with his bare hands.

"A lot of police officers."

Nagito heard a truck pull up at the back of the warehouse.

"Definitely. Enoshima left the security cameras on when she tortured Bortz."

"Excited?" Nagito smiled at him.

"I guess."

They pulled strings of dynamite out of the crates. It reminded him of gutting a pumpkin for Halloween. 

The garage door creaked and squealed when Mikan opened it. It got stuck, and she had to push it herself to get it going.

A cargo truck was parked right outside with its doors already open. Behind it, Nagito could see the road that it took to get there. It probably connected to the highway. Three people were nearby, one of them had to be the person Junko had been talking to.

She walked toward A man with greasy looking (possibly gelled up) hair. He visibly trembled in fear.

"You hear those sirens? They started less than five minutes ago. I asked you to be here _ten_ minutes ago."

"Enoshima-"

Junko took a pistol from Mukuro's hips. She whipped it around and pulled the trigger- landing a bullet in between his eyes with wicked precision. 

He fell to the floor like a bag of sand.

"Hey, you." Junko gestured to the woman (who didn't look frightened at all), "You're in charge now."

She nodded to the other man, and they started to load up the truck. Junko slammed Mukuro's gun back into the holster.

Izuru got up to assist them, he carried the heaviest cargo.

"Miss Junko, what do you want me to do with this?" Nagito asked, holding up an explosive.

"Chuck it in the hatch!" Junko said while carrying a crate of ammo.

"Wh- all of it?!" Nagito sputtered. These crates were lined and filled with dynamite as much as they possibly could be. "This could level a school!"

"That's the point, dip. Don't tell me you're going soft for enemy randos."

So there _were_ workers down there.

"No ma'am." He pulled the string of dynamite along the floor, dropping it into the hatch. He repeated this process until all three huge crates worth of explosives were gone and his hands smelled like gunpowder.

He dropped a detonator-activated flare down into the hatch. It was a lucky find. One press of the button and the flare would activate, setting fire to the explosives.

They got the warehouse cleared out remarkably fast- five minutes at most. The trucks cargo box was almost completely filled. 

The sirens blared almost deafeningly right outside, English was being barked through a megaphone but Nagito couldn't understand it.

Mukuro and Mikan got into the truck first, then the workers. As he stepped out to join them, Junko stopped him.

"The truck only seats five people," She said- Nagito felt his stomach drop, "You and Izuru won't be riding with us, you're taking my car."

Nagito took a moment to process what was being said. He stuttered over his words- the police were _here_, there was no time to make an escape back the way they came. And if they drove the car through the warehouse garage doors, they'd lead the police straight to Junko. 

"Oh my god! Don't look so pale," she cupped his cheek, "You guys are gonna be fine."

Her words lacked too much sincerity for him to take comfort in them.

She ran off to the truck.

"We're going straight to the jet, so meet us there!" Junko called out the window as they drove off, "Don't forget to make it explooode!!"

Nagito's shock melted into anger, then acceptance. That's all he really could do when it came to her.  
He pressed his hand against his pocket to make sure he still had the detonator. Sure enough, it was there.

Izuru groaned behind him. He turned, startled. 

Izuru seemed angry, almost.

"What do we do?"

Nagito could see the colored lights from the windows at the top of the warehouse.

Before he could answer, a bullet shot through the thin wall- missing them by a foot.

Izuru grabbed Nagito and pulled him to the right-side wall. They crouched down.

The bullet hole in the wall glowed red and blue. The voice on the megaphone started shouting again.

"He said that was a warning shot."

"Ah, so he's open to negotiations."

"I bet his friends aren't."

He would prefer to not become swiss cheese.

"He says they have around forty men, and we have a minute before they open fire."

"Then they definitely know who we are."

Nagito stared at his hands on the concrete floor. They could make a run for it, but the police have cars and they wouldn't. Plus, they still needed to light the fuse. Izuru might be able to take them all out, but he's still human- a bullets a bullet. And luck might not save him from forty guns.

Metal glints out of the corner of his eye. A stray gun lay under the shelf. He pulled it out. It probably had a full clip, but that still wouldn't make the odds worth it. He looked around for something, anything.

An idea sparked in his mind. An idea that could work.

"Are you good with guns?"

Izuru nodded, taking the gun from him.

The officer started the countdown from ten.

There were two fire extinguishers, one by each garage. Nagito ran to grab the one at the back, smashing the glass with the crowbar.

Izuru caught on, pulling out the extinguisher at the front. They regrouped at the front garage door. 

Nagito held the canisters in his arms. He pressed the button to raise the garage door.

Izuru stood in front of the door, gun hidden inside his jacket. The countdown stopped.

Nagito peeked around the corner. They hadn't lied, there probably was around forty officers present. He didn't have time to count, and couldn't afford being seen. He knew where the car was, and prepared to make a B-line.

When the garage door fully opened, it was eerily quiet for all of three seconds before Nagito slung the first canister into the crowd. Izuru shot it in midair, and it exploded into a cloud of smoke.

There was an uproar of yelling and panicked firing. Bullets whizzed past and scraped on metal- men yelled in a language he could barely understand. 

Izuru pushed him out of the way and back against the wall. Nagito stood pressed against his chest as Izuru peeked around the corner. He let himself enjoy how close they were in that moment. It would probably never happen again.

The firing stopped at the command of the voice that had been yelling earlier.

"Throw the other one to the left, and go straight to the car." 

Izuru got off of him, and he slung the second canister per Izuru's instruction. Izuru shot it- and the whole scene was bathed in white fog. He tossed the pistol to Nagito.

Nagito took a mad dash to the right. Izuru to the left.

He tried to circle around the chaos, which was difficult on account that he could barely see.

The sounds of panic filled his ears- bones crunching, bodies slamming against cars, glass breaking, stray gunshots, the _screaming._

He wished he could watch Izuru do this- watch him revel in malice and despair.

One day, he swears he'll get to witness the extent of Izuru's bloodshed.

A man screams bloody murder. The sounds of the crowd grow quieter. The fog started to dissipate. 

Nagito knocks into the hood of the car, letting out an 'oof'.

He slides into the drivers side, sticking the keys into the ignition. She'd left them in the car.

The sound of the engine roaring attracted an officer to the car. 

He was sweaty, heaving, and terrified. He looked straight into Nagito's eyes as he raised a gun to his head.

Nagito stared back at him defiantly, daring him to try with only his eyes.

"Go on." He said in English.

The cops hands shook.

"Do it. Let me see what you're willing to do to stop despair," Nagito's smile twisted, his heart racing and pounding against his chest, "Show me your hope."

The man trembled uncontrollably. He thought he may drop the gun, then the man's arms stiffened. He pulled the trigger. 

Click. 

Click, click, click. 

Nagito laughed uncontrollably. In this man's darkest hour, in his final moments, he fought his fears and hesitation to summon up the hope to defeat the despair sitting right in front of him- _and it still wasn't enough._

His eyes screamed out in fear- seemingly un disbelief that his gun had jammed at such an unlucky moment.

Nagito outstretched his arm, gun in hand.

"Better luck next time, you poor thing." He pulled the trigger, and the man fell backwards onto the dirt.

The gunshot echoed through the area. He noticed there wasn't any more noise- it was deathly quiet.

Footsteps approached the car. He could hardly see, so he turned on the headlights.

Izuru stood in front of the car, blood was splattered across his shirt, coated his hands, smeared on his cheek.

His eyes were wide and dilated. He looked primal- inhuman. It was a sight Nagito could soak in for hours and still not get enough. 

"I'm driving." 

Nagito nodded, feeling a bit nervous but knew Izuru wouldn't _harm_ him. Right?

He hopped the seat, sitting in passenger. Izuru went to pull the gear out of park.

"Kamukura, wait," Nagito pulled his jacket sleeve around his hand, pulling Izuru's head to face him, "We'll get pulled over if you look like you murdered someone."

He wiped the blood off the others' cheek in slow motions. He looked into Izuru's eyes to search for any hidden emotions, anything at all that he could latch onto and study.

His eyes were _intensely_ focused on Nagito.

The smear was gone, but he still didn't let go of him. He waited for Izuru to pull away, but he didn't. And Nagito didn't want him to.

The other boy leaned forward into him. Nagito put his fingers in between their lips before they met.

"You should change your shirt, you still look like you killed someone." He said quietly, as if any louder would ruin whatever was happening between them.

"I did."

"But we don't want anyone to know that, do we?"

Izuru humored him. He shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall onto the floor.

Nagito swallowed. He was convinced that any minute now he'd wake up from his dream. He couldn't believe this was happening twice.

He placed shaking fingers onto the others' tie, slowly pulling it loose, never once looking away from him. 

He wondered what Izuru saw in him.

Nagito's hands rested on his shoulders. He wanted a lot of things - but wouldn't dare voice them.

"Did you just want an excuse to touch me?" Izuru's tone was quiet, but still direct.

"What? No."

"You're lying."

He was caught, and felt stupid for thinking he could get away with it. He looked away, upset with himself for trying to trick him.

A hand slid down Nagito's jaw, smearing blood as it went along. It pulled his face to meet Izuru's gaze once again. 

"Why do you lie about what you want?"

His legs began to tremble at the question. 

"Because I can't want _you_." He said, even quieter than before.

Izuru's thumb brushed over Nagito's lips. He pressed a kiss to it, feeling the blood slide between their skin.

He pressed into Nagito's mouth, the sudden taste of blood drowned out everything but the way it felt on his tongue- his legs pressed together at the sensation.

He watched Izuru's face through half lidded eyes, letting out a small noise from the back of his throat that Izuru seemed to enjoy.

He parted his lips with his thumb, and pressed his tongue to Nagito's. 

He closed his eyes and soaked up the way Izuru tasted in his mouth. Traces of copper slid between their tongues. Nagito moaned into his mouth.

It's like he can pull out his truth with nothing but a kiss. Their mouths fit together perfectly. 

Izuru laid a hand on Nagito's thigh and squeezed, he jumped at the unexpected touch. He could feel warm blood sinking into his jeans- it made his hips twitch.

Izuru pulled away. Nagito licked the blood off his lips, savoring the taste.

"Kamukura?"

"We should get to the jet before they think we've died and leave without us." He turned away from him, yanking the gear out of park.

"They wouldn't do that." Nagito's desperation sunk into his speech.

"You'd be surprised."

He calmed himself down and accepted that this was fate. They should get going, Izuru is right.

He can solve his 'problem' by himself, anyway. 

Izuru's driving may have been less reckless than Junko's, but it was _fast._

They sped down the highway alarmingly fast. It didn't worry Nagito, it was actually pretty exciting. 

Oddly enough, he felt so much more relaxed around Izuru than anyone else in their merry band of monsters. He thought it was an odd feeling.

“Oh!” Nagito pulled the detonator out of his pocket, almost forgetting about it, “Speed up.”

He pressed the button. It went down with a click.

Izuru pushed the gas pedal to the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of this part of the series! I'll definitely be writing more. I'm pretty determined to make this a long sort of thing! Thank you so much for reading, your feedback and kudos have really inspired me to keep doing this!
> 
> cw: there's porn 
> 
> (I've actually never really written a hardcore sex scene before so i hope this is good?? feedback always welcome, i love reading the comments!)

The reunion with the others was uneventful. 

Junko snarked at them for taking too long- they'd already loaded the jet with the loot from the warehouse, and Mikan had fallen asleep inside. 

Izuru went inside ahead of him.

"You look like hell." She said, trying to wipe the dried blood off of his face.

He shook from her grasp. He couldn't stand to be touched in the state he was in.

He hopped up the steps into the plane. Mukuro was flying again.

"I'll be in in a hot second, I gotta call someone to pick up my car."

Mikan lay across one of the couches. Her hair twisted along the cushions and fell over the side. It was tangled and worn out- which was a useful metaphor for the girl herself.

Nagito smiled at her- thankful she was able to get some rest. He scooped up her hair and tucked it behind her head, knowing if left splayed out Junko would probably try to yank on it.

He sat down on the couch across from her and looked out the window at the morning sky. The crack of dawn lit up the purple cloudscape with beams of orange and yellow.

Junko took her boots off when she walked in, finally reaching her breaking point for wearing six inch heels, and banged on the cockpits' door for her sister to get ready.

She picked up the small remote from the table and turned on the T.V. , flipping through the channels. 

He can't stop the anxiety from bubbling in his mind as they take off. He closed his eyes in an attempt to ignore it.

He hopes nothing atrocious happens. Bad things always happen to him all the time. True, the good luck chases out the bad in an endless cycle of karmic vengeance- but nowadays he finds it hard to look at silver linings.

He never feels safe. Not around Junko. He loves her, he does... but he hates her so much. 

Thinking about his true feelings for her makes his mind fight itself until it short circuits, so he opts not to think on it too hard today.

It's not just her. He never feels safe around anyone. Mukuro is a dangerous force of nature, and completely subjugated by her sister. Mikan is infatuated with Junko, loyal down to her every nerve, and the rest of his classmates are just as in love with her as she is. 

Not that he resents them. The despair that they're spreading will become the brightest hope the world has ever seen- their despair for the bright future of humanity. Countless people will be able to bask in that future, in that hope, and it's all thanks to her.

It all connects back to Junko. She's sunk her nails into everything. Even him.

The only person she doesn't own is… Izuru.

It clicks in his mind. Izuru- the only other person he can trust, that's why he feels safe around him. 

But Izuru would never protect him. Why would he? He could never expect the ultimate of ultimates to care about _him._

Nonetheless, it was still comforting to know there's one other person who doesn't love Junko. No matter how much she wants him to. 

He thinks back to the warehouse. Izuru had interrupted Junko right before she was about to bite. He didn't have to rip the lid off the hatch. He could have just popped the locks, or forced it open.

Nagito wonders if he'd saved him on purpose. His chest grows warm at the thought, but he writes it off. It could have been for any reason. Surely not to help him.

The plane hits turbulence, he grips his thighs. Mukuro may be too tired to pilot a jet. What if she crashes it? Or some other manner of terrible misfortune.

"It's gonna be fine, stop sweating it!" Junko shoves his shoulder.

"Hey, what's that?" She pulls his hand from his leg, pointing at the bloody handprint Izuru had left on his jeand. 

"I'm actually not sure how I got this," he lied, "It was pretty hard to see in the moment."

"Oh, ew. That cop was a creep."

He flashes her a smile. His eyes still burn from lack of sleep. He regrets not taking a nap in the car.

Maybe he could nap now? He may be so tired that it overrules his anxiety. It's worth it to try- even if just having an excuse to get away from Junko.

The jet has another room with rows of seats, like the kind you'd see on a travel plane. It's much smaller, though. Six rows of three seats each. If memory serves, he can pull up the arm rests and lay across the seats.

His vision blurred as he stood up. He walked over to the door to the other room.

"And where the hell are _you_ going?" Junko asked, propping her feet up on the table.

Nagito's hands paused on the sliding door. He felt nervous- fearing she wouldn't let him go.

"I'm going to take a nap, miss Junko." He looked over his shoulder at her. The plane was amplifying his anxiety- he was afraid. And so tired.

She shrugged, seemingly okay with it.

He slid open the door and locked it behind him, already feeling better now that he was alone.

The seats were sleek and dark blue, perfectly fine for sleeping on. To be honest, his standards weren't very high, he would sleep on the floor if chairs weren't an option.

He went to lay in the middle aisle, but found Izuru occupying the space already. He jumped backward.

"Kamukura! I didn't know you were here." He felt silly for not deducing that- where else would he be?

He shot Nagito a glance, but then returned to what he was reading. It was a magazine.

"May I sit with you?"

The other boy nodded.

Nagito sat down next to him. Izuru got the window seat, but he figures that's for the best. He throws the idea of taking a nap out of his mind, he'd much rather enjoy Izuru's company. 

He watched him flick through the magazine's pages. His hands had been washed, unlike his bloodstained shirt.

"What are you reading?"

"A fashion magazine."

"W… Why?" 

"I don't have anything else to do."

Nagito nodded. He leaned over to get a quick look, pulling up the arm rest between them to do so.

It seemed to be about what trends were in and out of style.

"Are you learning anything?"

"Technically." Izuru shrugged.

The conversation burned out, but Nagito didn't mind.

The jet hit turbulence again, worse than before. 

Nagito suddenly felt sick to his stomach- nervously poking his thumb into his index finger. He was fairly certain something awful was going to happen. Would it be karna? Fate? Bad luck?

"What's wrong with you?" Izuru stuffed the magazine back where he found it, bored with reading.

"Ah, I just don't like flying." Nagito tried to play it off casually, but his wavering voice betrayed him.

"Why?"

"I was in an accident when I was little, is all. And on account of my shit luck, it's often jarring to fly."

"That makes sense. To be afraid."

Nagito figured the exchange was over, until Izuru looked back to him.

"It's not going to fall." 

It was stated matter-of-factly, but maybe Izuru was trying to comfort him? Nagito smiles.

It seemed better now that he'd said that. Izuru had no reason to lie to him- which was a childish thing to take comfort in, but Nagito didn't care.

Minutes passed in silence. Not an awkward silence, like they had been at the start of the trip, but a comfortable silence. Comfortable with each other.

"Did Junko teach you to do that?" Izuru asked, tapping his finger on his own lips.

"How to kiss?" Nagito almost laughed at the notion, "No, no. I don't kiss her like that. Don't kiss her at all, really."

Nagito was silent for a few seconds, before realizing what that question meant. Was he good at kissing? How would Izuru be able to tell?

"Did… you like it?" He asked.

The other boys' eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

If Izuru, a boy who doesn't particularly _like_ anything, actually enjoyed something Nagito did for him- he may just explode.

"Kissing me, I mean. Did you like it?"

"Yes."

Nagito's face went red hot. The logic of his self-abusing rhetoric fell to pieces in this scenario-- someone like Izuru, someone as perfect and divine as he _enjoyed_ kissing him. His mind couldn't even come up with better reasoning, or some kind of loophole to keep himself from feeling the immense joy he felt in this moment. 

"I figured you knew that already. I didn't pull away."

"Yes but… I figured maybe- that- I don't know," he abandoned that thought, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Kissing me!" He didn't mean for his tone to be so… excited. He feared he was weirding him out.

Izuru just stared at him, eyes darting around to observe Nagito. Why was he looking at him? Was he unsightly?

Izuru's hand reached out to touch Nagito's face. His fingers were cold against his skin, making the other boy shiver. 

"You're hot."

"Ah- what?"

"Your face is hot."

"It's… a blush."

"I _know_ what it is. I'm asking why."

Nagito couldn't find the words to respond. Not when Izuru's touching him. 

So they sit in silence, staring into each other. Red on Green. 

While they were already playing twenty questions, Nagito figures he might as well swallow his pride and ask what he _desperately_ wanted to know. 

"Did you like… when we were in the elevator last night?"

"Yes." Izuru answered as if he'd asked him a basic question. Like he was answering something obvious. 

"Would you ever do it again?"

Izuru looked to the floor in thought. His hand dropped from Nagito's face and onto the seat.

"I don't experience a lot of things that I'd willingly go back to once I'm done with it," He said, "But I would do that again."

Nagito smiled crookedly, swallowing the knot in his throat. He was happy- so happy that he was able to show him something he enjoyed. 

Izuru seemed the tiniest bit unsettled by his expression.

Nagito would gladly repeat that night over and over again. He hoped Izuru knew that (he probably did).

"I'd let you do anything you wanted to me."

Izuru cocked his head like a cat. It took Nagito a moment to realize his _astronomical_ blunder. 

"AH! I didn't- I didn't mean to say that out loud," He reeled in embarrassment, "Please ignore that, ignore me."

He stood to leave, deciding that there was probably no coming back from that. (Seriously, what an idiot!) He got the answers he wanted and now he can go. Even Junko's company is preferable to the infernal embarrassment that staying here would bring him.

As suddenly as he stood, Izuru grabbed his wrist and yanked him back down to his seat. 

Their faces were close, almost nose to nose. The intensity of his eyes made Nagito feel small, maybe even a bit scared. Was he angry with him? It was near impossible to tell.

It excited Nagito in a way he couldn't describe.

"Would you let _anyone_ do anything to you?" Izuru asked, grip still tight on his arm.

Nagito shook his head no.

"What makes me an exception?" 

"I don't know." 

"But don't you?" His tone was direct, sharp, demanding- it made the other boy tremble.

Hypnotized by pure perfection, all he could care about in this moment was Izuru. Only him. 

He made everything in his mind melt away. Made him forget. The plane, Junko, and the end of the world could all go fuck themselves for all he cared. Nothing could hurt him for as long as he lived in this moment.

"Komaeda."

He snapped to attention.

Izuru roughly pulled Nagito's mouth to his with an 'mmph!'.

He pried Nagito's jaw open with nothing but his own mouth. It was dominating, overpowering. He could hardly _breathe._

Nagito leaned his body into him, splaying his hands on the other boys' chest.

A pang of heat shot deep into him- he pressed his legs together to offer himself some kind of friction. 

It almost hurt, how hard he was. 

Izuru grabbed Nagito's hips, forcefully pulling him into his lap. Clothes suddenly much too hot, pants much too tight.

Pulling away, he took in a quivering breath, hands shaking in the others' bloodstained shirt.

Nagito's hips twitched in Izuru's hands. He only gripped tighter.

There were _far_ too many clothes between them.

Their lips met once again, hotter this time. The taste of tongue had never felt this addicting.

The seam in his jeans created friction inside his pants- he could tell he was wet- but it wasn't enough, and not what he wanted. But this isn't about what he wants.

Izuru unbuttoned Nagito's pants with one hand. He gasped, gripping Izuru's wrist on impulse. 

They looked to each other once again. He realized this was Izuru offering him a chance to change his mind. 

He wanted this, he knew he did, he just didn't know if it was a good idea. What if it ended in disaster- ruined everything? He doesn't know how it could- but knowing his luck, anything could happen. 

But when Izuru is looking at him like that, when he's already come so far, when he has nothing to lose, he didn't care about a right or wrong decision. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, he couldn't waste it. 

Nagito hesitantly let go of his wrist.

Izuru pulled down the hem of Nagito's boxers and slipped his fingers inside. They were cold against him, and he shivered at the contact. 

He gritted his teeth to keep from making any noise- but god, it felt good to have some relief.

Nagito realizes he hasn't done anything like this in a very long time, not even by himself. 

And what's worse, he'd only had one other person penetrate him before. Not that it particularly mattered to him, but the difficulty jump between the two was … large.

Izuru rubbed circles into the boy in his lap, observing intently. Nagito could almost read his expression- concentration, intrigue.

Nagito shook with each motion. He leaned forward and dotted kisses along the other boys' neck to show his appreciation. His kisses were messy and imprecise, but Izuru didn't seem to mind, leaning his head to give him more room. 

Nagito rocked against his fingers. He lacked the courage to ask for more with his words- but he _begged_ with his body.

His breath hitched as Izuru slid his fingers down, pausing at his entrance. Nagito whimpered pathetically, nodding into his neck for him to keep going.

Izuru sighed with a hint of annoyance. Before he could process it, Izuru pressed two fingers inside him with one perfect push. 

Nagito clung to him even tighter, gasping in pleasure as Izuru began to pump his fingers in and out.

He didn't want to bore him- that was the last thing on the priority list. What could he do to help, to make things more interesting?

Taking a shot in the dark, Nagito bit down on his neck, teeth sinking into his skin. Izuru hissed sharply through his teeth. 

Izuru used his other hand to rip Nagito off his neck, holding a death grip on his hair.

"Do _not_ do that." He was _pissed._

An overwhelming pulse of arousal went through him, flowing through his veins and straight to his brain.

"I'm sorry." He said, swallowing the knot in his throat. 

The hand that was tangled in his hair kept him still so Izuru could watch him.

His fingers pumped faster, angling upward. Nagito bit down on his hand to muffle his moans, eyes shut tight to avoid the others' gaze.

A particularly _loud_ whine creeped up his throat as his fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot inside him. 

Izuru's eyes were intensely focused on the reactions of his body.

He had to show some restraint with his noises- he'd die on the spot if one of the girls heard him. He feared later he may be too caught up in the moment to care. The thought damn near petrified him.

Fingers curled inside him, causing his hips to twitch forward into Izuru's hard-on. Nagito gasped at the contact. 

He pulled his hand from his teeth, hesitating to act.

The spotlight had been on him for too long. This wasn't about him- 

He squeezed the other boys' dick through his pants.

This was about Izuru.

He pulled his hands away from Nagito, and he took it as an unspoken form of permission.

Rushed fingers looped into the belt buckle, pulling the belt through the loops. He fumbled with the button, far too excited- or maybe nervous- for his own good. He was so hard- Nagito couldn't imagine how much pressure must be pushing against him. Dress pants could _not_ be the friendliest thing to have a boner in. 

He pulled his dick from his boxers, mouth watering at the sight.

He wrapped a hand around Izuru and squeezed, soaking in the sigh of relief that escaped through his teeth.

"Take this off." He commanded, tugging at Nagito's jeans.

He shook his head eagerly, standing up to pull his pants off his legs. It was embarrassing to strip in front of someone, but he didn't hesitate. He shrugged off his jacket as well as his boxers, tossing them aside onto the seats. 

Izuru didn't give him time to adjust, pulling him back into his lap as soon as he saw he was done. 

He scanned Nagito's body up and down, trailing his hands across his legs and hips. Not out of love, or aesthetical appreciation, but out of intrigue. He looked at his body as if he'd never seen anything quite like it, feeling him like he was something entirely new.

Nagito figured that was the closest he'd ever get to being complemented by him. 

He took Izuru's dick and held it up against his stomach, it rested just above his belly button. It wasn't overly girthy, just _large._

His mouth hung agape as fears from earlier bubbled back to the surface. He'd never taken anything this big before- it excited and terrified him. 

Izuru's patience was wearing thin. He pushed Nagito to lean on the back of the seat in front of them. His legs still rested on either side of his lap.

Nagito gasped as he pushed the tip in, nails digging into his hip bones to keep him in place. He braced himself for whatever came next.

Izuru wasn't interested in taking his time. He pulled his hips down onto his dick, making it halfway before Nagito yelped out in pain.

It hurt, it definitely hurt, but not in the way he thought it would. If he could just have a moment to settle, it would be okay, but Izuru was not that generous.

He growled, slamming Nagito's hips down flush with his.

A bolt of pain shot up his spine, causing the stars in his vision to burst like a firework. His mouth opened in a silent scream, body arching up into the air. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

Izuru slammed a hand over Nagito's mouth to muffle his pathetic pained whining. 

_It hurt so good._

His hips were pulled up, then back down again with the same intensity as before. A loud moan escaped his throat, clawing at the arm pushing against his mouth.

Izuru set a cruel pace, hard and unforgiving, whines chiming from Nagito with every thrust.

Tears welled up in his eyes as his body racked with pain. Every motion shot agony into his body, a feeling he could get high off of. A feeling he could never get enough of now that he's tasted it.

Their eyes met, tears rolling down his cheeks. Izuru was utterly unsympathetic.

There was a glint in his eye that Nagito rarely saw. One of intrigue or excitement, maybe both. It brought him great pride that Izuru was enjoying himself using _his_ body. For a lowlife like him, a situation like this could only happen once.

Then again, that's what he thought when they were in the elevator. 

Izuru let go of his mouth in favor of gripping his hips with both hands, moving faster than before. Nagito focused on not being loud, which was easier said than done.

He bit his tongue, taking it all as best he could. His legs hurt, ached, but it just added to the mix of pain that made him lightheaded in the best way possible.

Izuru grit his teeth, breathing erratic, small moans coming from his chest- sounds that drove Nagito crazy, his body threatening to go limp with every pulse. He clawed at the seat behind him, hardly able to keep his eyes open.

He reached down to rub circles on himself. He was close, he could tell by his shaking arms and the way his breath hitched with every pang of pleasure. He only hoped Izuru was too.

Izuru growled, thrusting up into the boy in his lap as he pulled him down. Nagito felt his dick twitch inside him and moaned, partly in pain- but all the agony he had felt earlier had melted down into swells of searing ecstasy. The benefits of being a masochist.

He wanted to tell him he was going to come, but his brains were so thoroughly scrambled that he couldn't. Nagito stammered, and stuttered, tripping over words that just couldn't form in his mouth.

Izuru put his hand over the others' mouth and nose, completely smothering him. Nagito clawed at his hand, air quickly being pushed out of his lungs.

He _slammed_ himself inside Nagito, making the boy cry out in muffled pain. His back arched up into the air as he came around Izuru's dick, eyes rolling back into his head, _desperately_ needing to breathe, every muscle in his body shaking with exertion and pleasure.

Izuru still didn't stop fucking him. He took his hand away from the other boys' face, concentrating on getting himself off. Nagito blinked away the spots in his vision, barely able to brace himself.

It hurt, and he knew he was going to be sore for a few days- but he would gladly be sore for the rest of his life if it meant he could experience this- experience him. Any pain was not only worth it, but an added bonus.

He watched himself being fucked through blurry eyes, unable to focus on anything else but this. Izuru was acting with such fervor, with such effort. His hair fell messy around his face, face twisted in hints of pleasure. 

He he was making him _feel_ something.

Nagito felt him twitch inside him once more, and as Izuru moved to pull out, he grabbed the boys wrist.

"It's- It's okay," he nodded feverishly, "You can."

Izuru groaned through gritted teeth as he came inside him. He bent over Nagito slightly, holding his hips still with a death grip. Nagito gasped starstruck at the sensation of hot cum spilling inside him.

They stayed like that for a moment, panting filling the room. He could feel Izuru's hot breath on his stomach.

Izuru sat straight up, and pulled Nagito off of him. It made a disgusting noise, but neither seemed to really mind.

Nagito laid down on the seats beside him, staring at the ceiling. He put his clothes back on, a painstaking endeavor, and found himself completely robbed of the strength to move.

"Are you sure that was a good idea?" 

Nagito blinked, brain trying very hard to process the question. He was silent for a few seconds too long, as Izuru spoke again.

"Me coming inside you. Is it actually okay, or was your brain clouded?"

Nagito shook his head, making a vague gesture in the air. His mouth was dry, and he was _so_ tired.

"Birth control," he groaned out, "S'fine… please don't talk to me, I'm sleeping."

He turned on his side, holding his stomach. It already ached a little, and he couldn't even imagine how bad it would be in the morning. Nor could he imagine the massive amounts of overthinking this event would cause him- but there's no use fretting about it.

He could sleep now, and that's all that mattered.

A good night's sleep is a rare luxury, but maybe he'll be lucky this time.


End file.
